CIHM 

Microfiche 

Series 

({Monographs) 


ICIVIH 

Collection  de 

microfiches 

(monographies) 


Canadian  InatHuta  for  Historical  Microroproductions  /  Instltut  eanatf  an  da  mieroraproduetiona  fiistoriqHas 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  techniques  et  bibllographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  original 
copy  available  (or  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bbHogmphlcany  urdque,  which  may  aHer  any  of 
the  Images  In  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checlced  below. 


□ 
□ 


Coloured  covers  / 
Couvedure  de  r">uleur 

Covers  damaged  / 
Couveilure  endommagte 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Couvertura  restaur^  ct/bu  peBicutfe 

.  Cover  title  missing  /  Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Colourad  maps  /  Cartes  gfographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  Ink  (I.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)  / 
Encre  de  couleur  (Le.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


Q 

Cotoured  plates  and/or  illustrations  / 

□ 
□ 
□ 


□ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material  / 
ReM  avec  d'autres  documents 

Only  edition  available  / 
Seule  Milton  disponible 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion  along 
interior  margin  /  La  reliure  serr^e  peut  causer  de 
I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsion  le  long  de  la  marge 
intirieure. 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restorations  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have  been 
omitted  from  filming  /  Use  peut  que  certaines  pages 
blanches  ajouties  lors  d'une  restauratlon 
apparaissent  dans  le  texts,  mais,  lorsque  cela  tftait 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  i\6  filmies. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire  qu'il  lul  a 
6\6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  dMaiis  da  cet  exem- 
plaire  qui  sont  peut-£tre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibli- 
ographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  una  nx)difieation  dans  la  mitho- 
da  nomnaia  da  fiimaga  sont  indiqute  cHfessous. 

I    I  Coloured  pages  /  Pages  de  couleur 

I    I  Pages  damaged  /  Pages  endommagies 

□ Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Pages  restaurtes  et/ou  peilicul^es 

I — y  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
I  W  Pages  dteolor^es,  tacheties  ou  piqu^es 

I    I  Pages  detached/ Pages  d<tachtes 

("^  Showthrough/ Transparence 

Quality  of  print  varies  / 
Quafitd  in<gale  de  rimpresston 

Includes  supplementary  material  / 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppKmenlaire 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata  slips, 
tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  1o  ensure  the  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  totalement  ou 
partlellement  obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une 
pelure,  etc..  orrt  M  film^es  k  nouveau  de  fa^on  k 
obtenir  la  meSleura  bnaga  possible. 

Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 

discolouralions  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant  ayant  des 
cotorations  variables  ou  des  decolorations  sont 
film^es  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la  meitleure  imag« 
possible. 


□ 
□ 


□ 


□ 


Additional  comments  / 
Commentaires  suppl^mentaires: 


TMi  tttm  l«  tilmtd  at  «h«  rt«5ue»!on  rilte  ehf  eked  below  / 

C«  documtnt  ttt  film*  »u  l»ux  dt  rMuclton  tndlqui  el-detiout. 


10x 


14x 


18x 


22x 


26x 


30x 


I   I   I   I   I   I   I   I   I   I   I  I 


12x 


16x 


20x 


24x 


28x 


32x 


Th«  copy  filmed  h«rt  hat  bMn  raproducad  thanks 
to  th«  ganarosity  of: 

Stauffer  Library 
QuMii'k  University 


Tha  imagas  appearing  hara  ara  tha  bast  quality 
poaaibia  eenaidaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tho  original  eepy  and  in  koaping  with  tha 
fHmlng  contract  apodf icotiona. 


Original  copias  in  printad  papar  covars  ara  ftlmod 
beginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  ending  on 
tha  last  page  with  a  printad  or  illustrated  impraa- 
sion.  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriate.  All 
other  origfnal  copiaa  arc  fllmad  beginning  on  tha 
first  pege  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  e  printed 
or  yiuatratad  improaaien. 


The  laat  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
ahall  contain  tha  symbol  «^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED").  or  tha  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"). 
wMehcvar  appliaa. 

Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc..  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  ara  filmed 
beginning  in  tha  upper  left  hand  comer,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  Tha  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


L'exemplaira  filmi  fut  reproduit  grico  i  la 
g*n4ro8lti  da: 

Stauffer  Library 
Quean's  Uafversity 

Las  imagea  suivantas  ont  M  reproduites  ovec  le 
plus  grand  soin.  compta  tenu  de  la  condition  at 
da  la  nettet*  de  rexemplaire  film*,  et  en 
conformity  avac  Im  eonditioiw  du  contrat  da 
filmaga. 

Las  axemplairea  originaux  dent  la  couvartura  en 
papier  est  imprim«e  sont  filmAs  en  commen^ant 
par  la  premiar  plat  at  an  tarminant  soit  par  la 
darniire  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'Impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plot,  seion  le  cas.  Tous  las  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmis  en  commen^ant  par  la 
pramMra  paga  qui  somperta  una  empreinte 
dimpraaaion  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  darniira  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
amprainto. 

Un  daa  aymbolaa  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
darniire  imege  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  la  symbole  — signifie  "A  SUIVRE '.  le 
aymboto  ▼  a^nlfic  "FIN". 

Lea  cartes,  plonches,  tablaeux.  etc..  peuvent  4tre 
filmte  A  dee  taux  do  reduction  diff«rents. 
Lorsqua  la  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  soul  clich*.  il  est  film*  A  partir 
da  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  i  droite. 
et  de  haut  en  baa.  an  prenant  le  nombre 
d'imagaa  nicaaaaira.  La*  diagrammaa  suivants 
illustrant  la  m*ttioda. 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

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{AHS\  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


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i 


THE 
TRANSFIGURED 
CHURCH 


J.  H.  JOWETT,  D.D. 


New  Yobk       CmcAoo  Toronto 

Fleming  H.  Revcll  Company 

LoNDOR        AND  EDINBURGH 


O^yright,  1910,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  123  N.  Wabash  Ave. 
Toronto:  25  Richmond  St.,  W. 
London :  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:  100  Princes  Street 


/  0  f  3 


CONTENTS 


T 
JU 

OHUSOH 

I 

n. 

99 

ni. 

THX  LOVX  aw  flOD 

47 

IT. 

THX    liAOnXTIBIC    OV    Tnv    nvt  npi»»t. 

..... 

67 

V. 

soir  AKD  hub!  .... 

67 

VI. 

HIS  MANY  CBOWNS  .... 

80 

VII. 

THE     HALLOWINO     OF     THX  OUTZX 

COUBTS  ..... 

S9 

vni. 

WHAT  IS  SIN  f 

99 

IX. 

A  xxoAi.  ooxsoiomnrxM  . 

110 

X 

I.UU.KD  XT  HIGH  lOXALS  . 

119 

XI. 

THX  DOCK  OF  ITIXXVXH 

128 

xn. 

SOUND   IN  PATIEHCB 

138 

xm. 

THE  SECEET  OF  MOBAL  PBOOBESS 

148 

XIV. 

THY  STBENOThI     MY  STBBNOTH 1 

158 

6 


Q 

CHAPTSB 

XV. 

BOLDirBSS 

169 

XVI. 

MSN  OF  VIOLBITOX  . 

•  • 

181 

XVII. 

PIX>UOH-WOBK 

•  • 

191 

XVIII. 

THE  ENERGY  OF  FAITH 

•  • 

204 

Al  At 

THE  '''ESTIMONY  OF  THE  CONaCIENCE  . 

213 

THE  ABT  OF  GIVINO 

•  • 

224 

XXI. 

WABTTED,  A  VEODIGtI 

•  • 

235 

xxn. 

THS  OLD  BOAD  AOAIIT 

•  • 

244 

I 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  A  TRANSFIGURED 
CHURCH 

"And  when  the  day  of  Pentecost  was  come^  they  were  all 
together  in  one  place.  And  suddenly  there  came  from  heaven 
a  sound  as  of  the  rushing  of  a  mighty  wind,  and  it  filled  all 
the  house  where  they  were  sitting.  And  there  appeared  junto 
them  tongues  parting  asunder,  like  as  of  fire:  and  it  sat  upon 
each  one  of  them.  And  they  were  all  filled  with  the  Holy 
Spirit,  and  began  to  apeak  with  other  tongues,  as  the  Spirit 
gave  them  utterance.  .  .  .  And  when  this  sound  wu  heud, 
the  multitude  came  together  1  "—Acts  ii.  1-4,  6. 

The  wonder  inside  the  Church  aroused  inquisitive 
interest  without.  There  came  to  the  Church  an 
exceptional  and  plentiful  endowment,  and,  as  by  the 
constraint  of  a  mystic  gravitation,  the  outside  crowd 
b^an  to  move,  like  the  waters  swayed  by  the  moon. 
Tlie  crowd  may  have  moved  towards  the  Church  in 
the  temper  of  a  flippant  cariosity,  or  in  tlm  spirit  of 
unfriendly  revolt,  or  in  the  solemn  mood  of  appro- 
priating awe.  Whatever  may  have  been  the  con- 
straint, the  waters  were  no  longer  stagnant,  the 
masses  were  no  longer  heedless  and  apathetic;  the 
heedlessness  was  broken  up,  interest  was  begotten, 
and  "  the  multitude  came  together." 

Is  the  modem  Church  the  centre  of  similar  in- 
terest and  wonder  ?  Is  there  any  awed  and  meranono 
Tvaum  breathing  through  the  streets,  stirring  the 

1 


8        THE  TRANSFI6UBED  CHURCH 


indifferent  heart  into  eager  questionings?  The 
modem  Church  claims  inunediate  kinship  and  direct 
and  vital  lineage  with  that  primitive  fellowship  in 
the  upper  room.  Does  she  manifest  the  power  of 
^  the  early  Church?  Does  she  reveal  the  same  mag- 
netic influence  and  constraint? 

I  know  that  "  the  Kingdom  of  God  cometh  not 
with  observation."  And  so  it  is  with  the  Spring. 
The  Spring  "  cometh  not  with  observation,"  but  you 
speedily  have  tokens  that  she  is  here.  She  can  hide 
her  coming  behind  March  squalls,  and  she  can  step 
upon  our  shores  in  the  rough  attire  of  a  blustering 
and  tempestuous  day;  but  even  though  her  coming 
may  be  without  observation,  her  presence  cannot  be 
hid.  And  even  so  it  is  with  the  Kingdom :  she  may 
make  no  noisy  and  ostentatious  display  of  her  com- 
ing, but  the  sleeping  seeds  feel  her  approach,  and  the 
valley  of  bones  experiences  an  awaking  thrill,  and 
"there  is  nothing  hid  from  the  heat  thereof."  I 
think,  therefore,  that  we  are  justified  in  seriously 
inquiring  as  to  the  "  resurrection  power "  of  our 
Churches,  the  measure  of  their  quickening  influence, 
their  net  result  in  reaching  and  stirring  and  conse- 
crating the  energies  of  a  community.  How  do  they 
stand  in  the  judgment  ?  Is  the  Pentecostal  morning 
repeated,  and  is  the  gracious  miracle  the  talk  of  the 
town  ?  Does  the  multitude  come  together,  "  greatly 
wondering  "  ? 

Carry  the  inquisition  to  the  regular  and  frequent 
fellowship  of  the  Church.  So  many  timea  a  week  her 


A  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH  9 


members  gather  together  in  the  upper  room.  What 
happens  in  the  hallowed  shrine?  Are  we  held  in 
solemn  and  enriching  amazement  at  the  awful 
doings?  And  when  we  come  forth  again,  is  there 
about  us  a  mysterious  impressiveness  which  arrests 
the  multitude,  and  which  sends  abroad  a  spirit  of  * 
questioning  like  a  healthy  contagion  ?  Can  we  hon- 
estly say  that  by  our  ordinary  services  the  feet  of  the 
heedless  crowd  are  stayed,  and  tliat  the  ])r'ople  come 
together  "  greatly  wondering  "  ?  In  answer  to  all 
these  searching  questions  I  think  that  even  the  most 
optimistic  of  us  will  f^l  obliged  to  confess  that  the 
general  tendency  is  undisturbed,  that  we  do  not 
generate  force  enough  to  stop  the  drift,  and  that  the 
surrounding  multitude  remains  uninfluenced. 

Now,  when  we  consider  tliese  unattracted  or 
alienated  peoples,  we  can  roughly  divide  thetn  into 
three  primary  classes.  First,  there  are  those  who 
never  think  about  us  at  all.  So  very  remote  are  the 
highways  of  their  thought  and  life  that  the  impulse 
of  the  Church  is  spent  before  it  reaches  their  mental 
and  moral  abode.  We  can  scarcely  describe  their 
attitude  as  one  of  indifference,  because  the  mood  of 
indifference  would  imply  a  negligent  Sense  of  our 
existence,  and  I  can  discern  no  signs  of  such  percep- 
tion. We  contribute  no  thread  to  the  warp  and 
woof  of  their  daily  life.  We  bring  no  nutriment  to 
the  common  meal;  we  do  not  even  provide  a  con- 
diment for  the  feast  Our  presence  in  the  city 
brings  neither  pleasure  nor  pai^,  neither  sweet  nor 


10      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


bitter,  neither  irritation  nor  ease;  their  souls  are 
not  disquieted  within  them,  neither  are  they  lulled 
into  a  deeper  and  more  perilous  sleep.  We  are 
neither  irritants  nor  sedatives;  to  this  particular 
class  we  simply  do  not  exist. 

And,  then,  secondly,  there  are  those  who  have 
thought  about  us,  and  as  a  result  of  their  thinking 
have  determined  to  ignore  us.    For  all  simple,  posi- 
tive, and  progressive  purposes  we  are  no  longer  any 
good.    We  are  exhausted  batteries;  we  have  no 
longer  the  power  to  ring  a  loud  alarm,  or  to  light  a 
new  road,  or  to  energise  some  heavy  and  burden- 
some crusade.    Our  once  stern  and  sacrificial  war- 
fare has  now  become  a  bloodless  and  self-indulgent 
quest.    It  is  not  only  that  the  once  potent  shell- 
cases  have  been  emptied  of  their  explosive  content, 
they  have  been  converted  into  dinner-gongs!  The 
once  brilliant  and  unconditional  ethical  ideal  has 
been  dimmed  and  shadowed  by  worldly  compromise. 
The  pure  and  oxygenated  flame  of  righteous  passion 
has  been  changed  into  the  fierce  but  smoky  bonfire 
of  sectarian  zeal.    We  are  looked  upon  as  engaged 
in  petty  and  childish  controversy,  losing  ourselves 
in  vague  and  nebulous  phraseology,  decking  our- 
selves in  vestures  and  postures  as  harmles-i  and 
indifferent  as  the  dresses  worn  at  a  fancy  ball. 
That  is  the  estimate  formed  of  us  by  a  vast  section 
of  the  thinking  crow  d.   Ton  will  find  it  reflected  week 
by  week  in  the  labour  papers,  where  we  are  regarded 
as  straws  in  some  side-bay  of  a  mighty  river,  riding 


A  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH  11 


serenely  round  and  round  and  round,  and  we  do 
not  even  show  the  drift  of  the  stream,  the  dominant 
movement  of  our  age.  Our  spnech  and  our  doings 
are  of  interest  to  the  antiquary,  but  for  all  serious, 
practical,  forceful,  and  aspiring  life  our  Churches 
do  not  count. 

Ajnd,  thirdly,  there  are  those  who  think  abouc  us, 
and  who  are  constrained  by  their  thinking  into  the 
fiercest  and  most  determined  upposiuon.  To  these 
men  the  Church  is  not  like  Bunyan's  Giant  Pope, 
alive  but  impotent,  and  "  by  reason  of  age,  and  also 
of  the  many  shrewd  brushes  that  he  met  with  in  his 
younger  days,  grown  so  crazy  and  stiflf  'n  his  joints, 
that  he  can  do  little  more  than  sit  in  his  cave's 
mouth,  grinning  at  pilgrims  as  they  go  by,  and 
biting  his  nails  because  he  cannot  come  at  them." 
No,  to  this  class  the  Church  can  do  more  than 
grin;  it  can  reach  and  tear,  and  its  ministry  is  still 
destructive.  Its  influence  is  perverse  and  perv<jrt- 
ing.  Its  very  faith  is  a  minister  of  mental  and 
moral  paralysis.  Il»  dominant  conce}  tions  befog 
the  common  atmusphore,  and  chill  and  freeze  "the 
genial  currents  of  the  soul."  Its  common  postures 
and  practices,  its  defences  and  aggressions,  perpetu- 
ate and  confirm  human  alienations  and  divisions. 
The  Church  cannot  be  ignored;  it  is  not  a  harmless 
and  picturesque  ruin ;  it  is  a  foul  fungus  souring  the 
common  soil,  and  for  the  sake  of  all  sweet  and  beauti- 
ful things  its  nefarious  influence  must  be  destroyed. 

This  is  by  no  means  an  exhaustive  analysis  of  the 


12       THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


alienated  multitude,  but  it  is  suflSciently  descriptive 
for  my  present  purpose.    In  each  of  these  three 
great  primary  classes  the  people  stand  aloof,  in- 
different and  resentful,  and  the  Church  is  not  en- 
dowed Avitli  that  subduing  and  triumphant  impres- 
siveness  which  would  turn  their  reverent  feet  to- 
ward herself.    ^o\v,  how  stands  it  with  the  Church  ? 
Does  she  seem  fitted  to  strike,  and  arrest,  and  silence, 
and  allure  the  careless  or  suspicious  multitudes? 
What  is  there  unique  and  amazing  about  her  ?  Her 
Lord  has  promised  lier  a  marvellous  distinctiveness. 
She  is  to  be  "  a  glorious  Cliureh,  not  having  spot, 
or  wrinkle,   or  any  such   thing " !    ''A  glorious 
Church":  shining  amid  all  the  surrounding  twi- 
lights with  the  radiance  of  a  sjdendid  noon !    "  Not 
having  spot " :  no  defect,  no  blemish,  no  impaired 
function,  no  diseased  limb!    "Or  wrinkle":  there 
Bhall  be  no  sign  of  age  about  her,  or  any  waste;  she 
shall  never  become  an  anachronism;  she  shall  al- 
w  "s  be  as  young  as  the  present  age,  ever  distin- 
guished bv  lu-r  youthful  brow,  and  by  her  fresh  and 
almost  boisterous  optimism !      Or  Avrinkle,  or  any 
such  thing  "/    Mark  the  final,  holy  swagger  of  it, 
as  though  by  a  contemptuous  wave  of  the  hand  the 
Apostle  indicates  the  entire  rout  of  the  unclean 
IK'sts  that  invade  and  attack  an  apostate  Church. 
"  Or  any  such  thing  " !    Are  these  great  words  of 
promise  in  any  high  degree  descriptive  of  our  own 
Church?    Is  this  our  distinctiveness?    ''Not  hav- 
ing spot " :  have  we  no  withered  hands,  no  halt,  no 


A  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


13 


blind,  no  lame,  no  lepers  ?    "  Or  wrinkle  " :  are  we 
really  distinguished  by  the  invincible  and  con- 
tagious energies  of  perpetual  youth?    Does  not  the 
holding  up  of  this  groat  ideal  throw  our  basal  de- 
fects into  dark  and  ugly  relief?    The  pity  of  it  all 
is  just  this,  that  the  Church,  with  all  its  loud  and 
exuberant   professions,   is  exceedingly  like  "the 
world."    There  is  no  clean,  clear  line  of  separa- 
tion.   In  place  of  the  promised  glories  we  have  a 
tolerable  and  unexciting  dimness ;  in  place  of  super- 
lative whiteness  we  have  an  uninteresting  gray;  £.nd 
in  place  of  the  spirit  of  an  aggressive  youthfulness 
we  have  a  loitering  and  time-serving  expediency. 
There  would  be  no  difficulty,  if  only  we  h«d  seized 
upon  the  fulness  of  our  resources,  and  had  become 
clothed  with  the  riches  of  our  promised  inheritance, 
in  men  being  able  to  distinguish,  in  any  general 
company,  the  representatives  of  the  Church  of  the 
living  God.    There  would  be  about  them  the  per- 
vasive joy  of  spiritual  emancipation,  resting  upon 
all  their  speech  and  doings  like  sunlight  on  the  hills. 
There  would  Lo  about  them  a  spiritual  spring  and 
buoyancy  which  would  enable  them  to  move  amid 
besetting  obstacles  with  the  ninibleness  of  a  hart. 
"  Thou  hast  made  my  feet  like  hinds'  feet !  "    "  By 
my  God  have  I  leaped  over  a  wall !  "    There  would 
be  about  them  the  fine  serenity  which  is  born  of  a 
mighty  alliance.    And  there  would  be  the  strong, 
healthy  pulse  of  a  holy  and  hallowing  purpose,  t  at- 
ing  in  constant  and  forceful  persistence.  Such 


14      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


diaracteristics  would  distinguish  any  man,  and  any 
company,  and  any  Church,  and  the  startled  multitude 
would  gather  around  in  questioning  curiosity.  But 
the  alluring  wonder  is  largely  absent  from  our 
Church.    Men  pass  from  the  world  into  our  pre- 
cincts as  insensible  of  any  difference  as  though  they 
had  passed  from  one  side  of  the  street  to  the  other, 
and  not  feeling  as  though  they  had  been  transported 
from  the  hard,  sterile  glare  of  the  city  thoroughfare 
into  the  fascinating  beauties  of  a  Devonshire  lane. 
What,  then,  do  we  need  ?    We  need  the  return  of  the 
wonder,  the  arresting  marvel  of  a  transformed 
Church,  the  phenomenon  of  a  miraculous  life.  I 
speak  not  now  of  the  wonders  of  spasmodic  re- 
vivals; and,  indeed,  if  I  must  be  perfectly  frank, 
my  confidence  in  the  efficient  ministry  of  these 
elaborately  engineered  revivals  has  greatly  waned.  I 
will  content  myself  with  the  expression  of  this  most 
sober  judgment,  that  the  alienated  and  careless  mul- 
titude is  not  impressed  by  the  machinery  and  prod- 
ucts of  our  modem  revivals.    The  ordinary  mission 
does  not,  and  cannot,  reach  the  stage  at  which  this 
particular  type  of  impressiveness  becomes  operative. 
The  impressiveness  does  not  attach  to  "  decisions," 
but  to  resultant  life.    The  wonder  of  the  worlu  is 
not  excited  by  the  phenomena  of  the  penitent  bench, 
but  by  what  happens  at  the  ordinary  working-bench 
in  the  subsequent  days.    The  world  is  not  impressed 
by  the  calendar  statement  that  at  a  precise  par- 
ticular moment  Winter  rolinquished  her  soTereigii^ 


A  TRANSFI6UBED  CHURCH 


to  Spring;  the  real  interest  is  awakened  by  the  irre- 
sistible tokens  of  the  transition  in  garden,  hedgerow, 
and  field.    It  is  not  the  new  birth  which  initially 
arrests  the  world,  but  the  new  and  glorified  life.  It 
is  not,  therefore,  by  spasmodic  revivals,  however 
grace-blessed  they  may  be,  that  we  shall  excite  the 
wonder  of  <  ae  multitude,  but  by  the  abiding  miracle 
of  a  God-filled  and  glorious  Church.    What  we  need, 
above  all  things,  is  the  continuous  marvel  of  an 
elevated  Church,  "  set  on  high  "  by  the  King,  having 
her  home  "in  the  heavenly  places  in  Christ,"  ap- 
proaching all  things  "from  above,"  and  trium- 
phantly resisting  the  subtle  gravitation  of  "the  world, 
the  flesh,  and  the  devU."    It  is  not  only  multitudes 
of  decisions  that  we  want,  but  pre-eminently  the 
heightening  of  the  life  of  the  saved,  the  glorification 
of  the  saints.   The  great  Evangelical  Revival  began, 
not  with  the  reclamation  of  the  depraved,  but  with 
the  enrichment  of  the  redeemed.  It  was  the  members 
of  the  Holy  Club,  moving  amid  the  solemnities  of 
grace  and  sacred  fellowship,  who  were  lifted  up  into 
the  superlative  stages  of  the  spiritual  life,  and  who 
in  that  transition  took  a  step  as  great  and  vital  as 
the  earlier  step  from  sin  to  righteousness.  Their 
life  became  a  high  and  permanent  miracle,  and  their 
subsequent  ministry  was  miraculous.    That  is  the 
most  urgent  necessity  of  our  day,  a  Church  of 
the  superlative  order,  immeasurably  heightened  and 
enriched— a  Church  with  wings  as  well  as  feet,  her 
<iimne8s  changed  into  radiance,  her  stammering 


16       THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

changed  into  boldness,  and  presenting  to  the  world 

the  spectacle  of  a  permanent  marvel,  which  will 
fascinate  and  allure  the  inquiring  multitude,  drawn 
together  "  not  that  they  might  see  Jesus  only,  but 
Lazarus  also  whom  He  has  raised  from  the  dead." 

Now,  what  is  the  explanation  of  the  comparative 
poverty  and  impotence  of  our  corporate  life  ?  Why 
is  the  Church  not  ladencd  mth  the  impressive 
dignities  of  her  destined  inheritage?    Look  at  the 
manner  of  our  fellowship.    Is  it  such  as  to  give 
promise  of  power  and  wealtli'^    When  we  meet 
together,  in  worsliippiug  communities,  do  we  look 
like  men  and  women  who  are  preparing  to  move 
amid  the  amazing  and  enriching  sanctities  of  the 
Almiglity?    Take  oui*  very  mode  of  entry.    It  is 
possible  to  lose  a  thing  by  the  way  we  approach  it 
I  have  seen  a  body  of  flippant  tourists  on  the  Rigi  at 
the  dawn,  and  by  their  noisy  irreverence  they  missed 
the  very  glory  they  had  -  uie  to  see.    "  men  ye 
come  to  appear  before  Me,  who  hath  required  this  at 
your  hands,  to  trample  My  courts?  "    That  loud  and 
irreverent  tramp  is  far  too  obtrusive  in  our  com- 
munion.   We  are  not  sufficiently  possessed  by  that 
spirit  of  reverence  which  is  the  «  open  sesame  "  into 
the  realms  of  light  and  grace.    We  are  not  subdued 
into  the  recepavencss  of  awe.    Nay,  it  is  frequently 
asserted  that  in  our  day  awe  is  an  undesirable  tem- 
per, a  relic  of  an  obsolete  stage,  a  remnant  of  pagan 
darkness,  a  fearful  bird  of  a  past  night,  altogether  a 
belated  anachronism  in  the  fuU,  sweet  light  of  the 


A  TRANSFIOUBED  CHURCH  17 

evangel  of  grace.  I  remember  receiving  a  firm,  but 
ven  courteoua  romonatranoe  frcan  one  of  the  childnn 
of  light,  becaus.  on  the  very  threshold  of  a  lovely 
suiumer's  morning  I  had  announced  the  hymn:— 

"JmI  God  ig  hero:  let  ua  adore 
And  own  how  dreadful  ia  this  place." 

And  my  friend  said  it  was  like  going  back  to  the 
cold,  gray  dawn,  when  disturbed  spirits  were  speed- 
ing to  their  rest!    It  was  like  moving  amid  the 
shadows  and  spectres  of  Genesis,  and  he  wanted  to  lie 
and  bask  in  the  calm,  sunny  noon  of  the  Gospel  by 
John!    I  think  his  letter  was  representative  of  a 
common  and  familiar  mood  of  our  time.    I  have  no 
desire  to  return  to  the  chill,  uncertain  hours  of  the 
early  morning,  but  I  am  concerned  that  we  should 
learn  and  acquire  the  only  receptive  attitude  in  the 
presence  of  our  glorious  noon.    It  is  certain  that 
many  of  the  popular  hymns  of  our  day  are  very  far 
removed  from  the  hymn  to  which  I  have  just  re- 
lerred.    It  is  not  that  these  hymns  are  essentially 
false,  hut  that  they  are  so  one-sided  as  to  throw  the 
truth  into  disproportion,  and  so  they  impair  and 
impoverish  our  spiritual  life.    Here  is  one  of  the 
more  popular  hymns  of  our  time:— 
"O  that  will  be  glory  for  me. 

When  by  Ilia  grace  I  shall  look  oq  Hi*  faee. 

That  will  be  glory  for  me!  " 

Well,  we  all  want  to  share  in  the  inspiration  of  the 
great  expectancy !  It  is  a  light  and  lilting  song,  with 
very  nimble  feet:  but  lest  our  thought  should  fashion 


18      THi:;  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


itadf  after  the  style  of  these  tripping  strains,  we 
need  to  hear  behind  the  lilt  "  the  voice  of  the  great 
Eternal,"  sobering  our  very  exuberance  into  deep 
and  awful  joy.    "  When  by  Ilia  grace  I  shall  look 
on  His  face !  "    That  is  one  aspect  of  the  great  out- 
look, and  only  one,  and  therefore  incomplete.    I  find 
the  complementary  aspect  in  these  familiar  words, 
**  With  twain  he  covered  his  face ! "   That  is  quite 
another  outlook,  and  it  introduces  the  deepening 
ministry  of  awe,  which  I  am  afraid  is  so  foreign  to 
the  modern  mind.    "  I  feel  like  singing  all  the 
day!  "    So  runs  another  of  our  popular  hymns. 
That  would  have  been  a  congenial  song  for  my  friend 
on  that  radiant  summer  morning  when  his  thought- 
less minister  led  him  up  to  the  awful  splendours  of 
the  great  white  throne  t   "  I  feel  like  singing  all  the 
day'':  and  the  words  su^jest  that  this  ought  to  be 
the  normal  mood  for  all  pilgrims  on  the  heavenly 
wa}        am  not  so  sure  about  that,  and  I  certainly 
have  J  ave  doubts  as  to  whether  the  man  who  feels 
like  singing  all  the  day  "  will  make  the  best  soldier 
when  it  comes  to  "  marching  as  to  war."    "  The  Lord 
is  in  His  holy  temple:  let  all  the  earth  keep  silence 
before  Him."   That  is  a  contemplation  which  seeks 
expression  in  something  deeper  than  song.    "  There 
was  silence  in  heaven  about  the  space  of  half  an 
hour."    What  had  they  seen,  what  had  they  heard, 
what  further  visions  of  glory  had  been  unveiled,  that 
speech  and  song  were  hushed,  and  the  soul  sought 
fitting  refuge  in  an  awe-inspired  silence  I 


A  TRANSFIGUBED  CHURCR  19 

When  I  listen  to  our  loud  and  irreverent  tramp, 
when  I  listen  to  so  many  of  our  awe-less  hymns  and 
prayers,  I  cannot  but  ask  whether  we  have  lost  those 
elements  from  our  contemplation  which  aiti  fitted  to 
subdue  the  soul  into  silence,  and  to  deprive  it  of  the 
clumsy  expedient  of  speech.    We  leave  our  places  of 
worship,  and  no  deep  and  inexpressible  wonder  sits 
upon  our  faces.    We  can  sing  these  lilting  melodies, 
and  when  we  go  out  into  the  streets  our  faces  are  one 
with  the  faces  of  those  who  have  left  Uie  theatres  and 
the  music-halls.    There  is  nothing  about  us  to  sug- 
gest that  we  have  been  looking  at  anything  stupend- 
ous  and  overwhelming.    Far  back  in  my  boyhood  I 
remember  an  old  saint  telling  me  that  after  some 
services  he  liked  to  make  his  way  home  alone,  by 
quiet  by-ways,  so  that  the  hush  of  the  Almighty 
might  remain  on  his  awed  and  prostrate  soul.  That 
is  the  element  we  are  losing,  and  its  loss  is  one  of 
the  measures  of  our  poverty,  and  the  primary  secret 
of  our  inefficient  life  and  service.    And  what  is  the 
explanation  of  the  loss?    Preeminently  our  im- 
T)overished  conception  of  God.   The  popular  God  is 
noi  great,  and  wiW  not  crc      a  great  race.  The 
Church  must  not  expect  t.    trike  humanity  with 
startling  and  persistent  impact  if  she  carries  in  her 
own  mind  and  heart  the  enfeebling  image  of  a  mean 
^vinity.    Men  who  are  possessed  by  a  powerful 
liod  can  never  themselves  be  impotent   But  have 
we  not  robbed  the  Almighty  of  much  of  His  awful 
glory,  and  to  that  extent  are  we  not  ourselves  d»- 


so      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


spoiled  ?  We  have  contemplated  the  heaiities  of  the 
rainbow,  but  we  have  overlooked  the  dim  severities 
of  the  throne.  We  have  toyed  with  the  light,  but 
we  have  forgotten  the  lightning.  We  have  rejoiced 
in  the  Fatherhood  of  our  God,  but  too  frequently 
the  Fatherhood  we  have  proclaimed  has  been  throne- 
less  and  effeminate.  We  have  picked  and  chosen 
according  to  the  weakness  of  our  own  tastes,  and  not 
according  to  the  full-orbed  revelation  of  the  truth, 
and  we  have  selected  the  picturesque  and  rejecteJ 
the  appalling.  "And  He  had  in  His  right  hand 
seven  stars: " — ^yes,  we  can  accept  that  delicate  sug- 
gestion of  encircling  love  and  care!  "And  His 
eounterumce  was  as  the  sun  shineth  in  his  strength :  " 
— yes,  we  can  bask  in  the  distributed  splendour  of 
that  sunny  morn !  "  And  out  of  His  mouth  went  a 
sharp  tivo-edged  sword!" — and  is  that  too  in  our 
selection,  or  has  our  cherished  image  been  deprived 
of  the  sword?  Why  leave  out  that  sword f  Does 
its  absence  make  us  more  thou^tful  and  braver 
men,  or  does  it  tend  to  lull  us  into  an  easefuln^ 
which  removes  us  far  away  from  the  man  who, 
when  he  saw  Him,  "  fell  at  His  feet  as  dead  "  ? 

This  mild,  enervating  air  of  our  modern  Lutheran- 
ism  needs  to  be  impregnated  with  something  of  the 
bracing  salts  of  Calvinism.  Our  very  Evangelical- 
inn  would  be  all  the  sturdier  by  the  addition  of  a 
little  "  baptised  Stoicism."  Our  water  has  become 
too  soft,  and  it  will  no  longer  make  bone  for  a  race 
of  giants.   Our  Lutheraniam  has  been  diluted  and 


A  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH  81 

weakened  by  the  expulsion  of  some  of  the  sterner 
motive-elements  which  it  possessed  at  its  source.  If 
we  banish  the  conceptions  which  inspire  awe,  we  of 
necessity  devitalise  the  very  doctrines  of  grace,  and 
if  grace  is  emasculated  then  faith  becomes  anffimic, 
and  we  take  away  the  very  tang  and  pang  from  the 
sense  of  sin.    All  the  great  epistles  of  the  Apostle 
Paul  begin  in  the  awe-inspiring  heights  of  towering 
niouufain-c'ountry,  and  all  through  the  changing 
applications   of   his    thought   these  cloud-capped 
eminences  are  ever  in  sight.    Paul's  eyes  were  al- 
ways lifted  up  "  unto  the  hills,"  and  therefore  his  soul 
was  always  on  its  knees.    If  he  rejoiced,  it  was 
"with  trembling";  if  he  served  the  Lord,  it  was 
with  fear  " ;  if  he  was  "  perfecting  holiness,"  it 
was  again  "  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord !  "    Always,  I 
say,  this  man's  eyes  were  upon  the  uwful,  humbling, 
and  yet  inspiring  ht^ights  of  revealed  truth.  Our 
modem  theological  country  is  too  flat ;  there  are  not 
enough  cool,  uplifted  snow-white  heights— heights 
like  Lebanon,  to  which  the  peasant  can  turn  his  fever- 
ish eyes  even  when  he  is  engaged  in  the  labours  of  the 
sweltering  vale.    "  Wilt  thou  forsake  the  snows  of 
Lebanon?"    ''His  righteousness  is  like  the  great 
mountains !  "    "  Go !  stand  on  the  mount  before  the 
Lord!"    "In  the  year  King  Uzziah  died  I  saw 
the  Lord,  high  and  lifted  up  I  "    "  Holy,  holy,  holy  is 
the  Lord."    That  was  a  mountain  view.    "  And  I 
said,  Woe  is  met"   And  that  was  the  consequent 
awe.    If  the  ministers  of  the  Church  were  to  dwell 


««      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


in  those  vast  uplifted  solitudes  strange  things  would 
happen  to  us.    Our  speech  would  be  deepened  in 
content  and  tone,  and  we  should  speak  as  they  say 
John  Fletcher  ol  Madeley  used  to  speak,  "  like  one 
who  had  just  left  the  immediate  converse  of  God  and 
angels."    But  not  only  so,  there  would  be  added  to 
our  speech  the  awful  energy  of  a  stili  more  powerful 
silence.    "Every  year  makes  me  tremble,"  said 
Bishop  Westc'ott  towards  the  e-\<l  of  his  years — 
"  every  year  makes  me  tremble  at  the  daring  with 
which  people  speak  of  spiritual  things."    Is  not 
the  good  Bishop's  trembling  justified?    Some  time 
ago  I  preached  a  sermon  on  the  bitter  cup  which  was 
drunk  by  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ.  I 
noticed  that  one  of  the  papers,  in  a  reference  to  the 
sermon,  said  that  I  Lad  spoken  on  the  sufferings  of 
Christ,  "  with  charming  eflFect !  "   The  words  sent  me 
to  my  knees  in  humiliation  and  fear.    Soul  of  mine, 
what  had  I  said,  or  what  had  I  left  unsaid,  or  through 
what  perverting  medium  had  I  been  interpreted? 
For  the  flippancy  can  be  in  the  reporter  as  well  as  in 
the  preacher,  it  can  be  in  the  religious  press  as  well 
as  in  the  consecrated  minister.    But  let  the  applica- 
tion stand  to  me  alone,  and  let  me  once  again  remind 
myself  of  Westcott's  trembling  ''at  the  dj'ring  with 
which  people  speak  of  spiritual  things."  Ay,  we  are 
rec^ess  and  therefore  forceless  in  our  speech ;  we  are 
not  mighty  in  our  silences.    There  are  some  things 
which  our  people  must  infer  from  our  reverent 
silences,  things  which  can  never  be  told  in  speech, 


A  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH  23 


and  these  mountain  experiences  are  among  them. 
That  awe  of  the  heights  will  deepen  and  enlarge 
both  the  ministry  and  the  Church,  it  will  enrich  both 
her  speech  and  her  silences,  and  it  will  make  her 
character  unspeakably  masculine,  forceful,  and  im- 
pressive.   "  If  in  any  part  of  Europe  a  man  was 
required  to  be  burnt,  or  broken  on  the  wheel,  that 
man  was  at  Geneva,  ready  to  depart,  giving  thanks 
to  God,  and  singing  psahns  to  Him."   A  mighty 
God  makes  irresistible  men.    History  has  proved, 
and  experience  confirms  it  to-day,  that  this  mountain- 
thinking,  with  all  its  subduing  austerities  and 
shadows,  would   create   a  powerful   and  athletic 
Church,    Church  of  most  masculine  temper,  coura- 
geous both  in  its  aggressions  and  in  its  restraints, 
both  in  its  confessions  and  its  reserves,  a  Church 
that  would  rouse  and  impress  the  world  by  the 
decisive  vigour  of  its  daily  life— never  dull,  never 
feeble,  but  always  and  everywhere  "fair  as  the 
moon,  clear  as  the  sun,  and  terrible  as  an  army 
with  banners."    "  0  Zion,  get  thee  up  into  the  high 
mountains!  '* 

But  our  impoverished  conception  of  God  is  not 
the  only  cause  of  our  comparative  poverty  and  en- 

feeblement.  The  life  of  the  Church  is  expressed  in 
two  rolationships,  the  human  and  the  Divine.  The 
Divine  fellowship  has  been  impoverished  by  lack  of 
height;  the  human  fellowship  has  been  impoverished 
hy  la<*  of  breadth.  We  have  not  drunk  the  iron 
water  from  the  heart  of  the  mountains,  and  we  have 


«4       THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


tlierefore  lacked  a  healthy  robustness;  we  have  not 
accumulated  the  manifold  treasures  of  tho  far-.stretoh- 
ing  plain,  and  we  have  therefore  lacked  a  wealthy 
variety.    Our  fellowship  with  God  has  been  mean: 
our  fellowship  with  man  has  been  scanty.  Nay, 
would  it  not  be  just  the  truth  to  say  that  the  human 
aspects  of  our  Church  fellowship  suggest  a  Ireasure- 
house  which  has  never  been  unlocked  ?    The  Church 
is  poor  because  much  of  her  treasure  is  imprisoned ; 
but  she  herself  carries  the  liberating  key  to  the  iron 
gate !    Our  riches  are  buried  in  the  isolated  lives  of 
individual  members  instead  of  all  being  pooled  for 
the  endowment  of  the  whole  fraternity.    A  very 
large  part  of  the  ample  ministry  of  the  #co»wwta  has 
become  atrophied,  if  indeed  it  has  ever  been  well- 
sustained.    I  gratefully  recognise  the  mystic,  silent 
fellowship  among  the  consecrated  members  of  the 
Church  of  Christ.    I  know  that  out  of  the  very 
heart  of  "  him  that  believeth  "  there  inevitably  flow 
^'  rivers  of  living  water,"  and  I  delight  to  allow  my 
imaginatic    to  rest  upon  the  well-irrigated  country 
of  this  sanctified  society.    There  is  a  mystic  com- 
merce altogether  independent  of  human  expedient  or 
arrangement.    We  cannot  bow  together  without  some 
exchange  of  heavenly  merchandise,  without  angol- 
ministries  carrying  from  island  to  island  the  unique 
and  peculiar  products  of  their  climes.    The  rich  and 
enriching  history  of  the  Society  of  Friends  is  alto- 
gether corroborative  of  this  great  truth  of  spiritual 
experience.    "  When  I  came  into  the  silent  assem- 


A  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH  85 


.  Mies  of  God's  people,"  says  Robert  Barclay,  "  I  felt 
a  sweet  power  among  them  which  touched  my  heart, 
and  as  I  gave  way  unto  it,  I  found  the  evil  weakening 
in  me  and  the  good  raised  iip."    But  the  human  side 
of  the  apostolic  tcotvwvia  includes  riches  other  than 
these.    It  is  not  only  a  mystic  interchange  in  the 
awful  depths  of  the  spirit;  it  is  a  fellowship  of 
intelligence,  it  is  a  community  of  experience,  it  is 
the  socialising  of  the  individual  testimony  and  wit- 
ness.   It  is  not  only  the  subtle  carriage  of  spiritual 
energy,  it  is  the  transference  of  visions,  the  sharing 
of  discoveries,  the  assemblage  of  many  judgments, 
whether  in  the  hour  of  triumph  or  of  defeat. 
"  When  ye  come  together,  every  one  of  you  hath  a 
psalm,  hath  a  doctrine,  hath  a  tongue,  hath  a  revela- 
tion, hath  an  interpretation."    That  is  the  broader 
fellowship  we  lack,  and  we  are  all  the  poorer  for  it. 
The  psalm  that  is  bom  in  one  heart  remains  unsung, 
and  the  sadness  it  was  fitted  to  remove  from  the  heart 
of  another  abides  like  a  clammy  mist.    The  revela- 
tmn  that  dawned  upon  one  wondering  soul  is  never 
shared,  and  so  another  remains  in  the  cold  imprison- 
ment of  the  darkneas.    The  private  interpretation  is 
never  given,  and  for  want  of  the  key,  many  obstruct- 
ing doors  are  never  unlocked.    This  is  the  ne^ected 
side  of  the  apostolic  fellowship,  and  for  the  want  of 
it  the  Church  goes  out  to  confront  the  world  in  the 
poverty  of  a  starved  individualism  rather  than  in 
the  rich  and  fuU-bloodcd  vigour  of  her  communistic 
Strength.   We  are  not  realising  the  social  basis  of  the 


«6      THE  TRANSFIGTTRED  CHURCH 


Church's  life;  Chrl  tian  fellowship  comprehends  not 
only  a  meeting  at  a  common  altar,  but  a  meeting  at 
a  family  hearth,  for  the  reverent  and  familiar  inter- 
change of  our  experiences  with  God,  and  of  what  has 
happened  to  us  in  our  warfare  with  the  world,  the 
flesh,  and  the  devil.    In  lieu  of  this  broader  and 
richer  fellowship  we  have  exalted  the  ministry  of 
one  m^n,  and  out  of  the  limited  pool  of  his  ex- 
periences— and  sometimes  they  are  not  even  ex- 
per'ences,  but  only  fond  and  desirable  assumptions— 
the  whole  community  has  to  drink,  while  tlie  rest 
of  the  many  pools  remain  untapped.    And  oh,  the 
treasures  that  are  hidden  in  these  unshared  and 
unrevealed  experiences!   What  have  our  matured 
saints  to  tell  us  of  the  things  we  wish  to  know? 
How  did  they  escape  the  snare,  or  by  what  subtlety 
were  they  fatally  beguiled  ?    How  did  they  take  the 
hill,  and  where  did  they  discover  the  springs  of  re- 
freshing?   What  did  they  find  to  be  the  best  foot- 
gear when  the  gradient  was  steep,  and  how  did  they 
comfort  their  hearts  when  they  dug  the  grave  by 
the  way?   And  what  is  it  like  to  grow  old,  and 
what  delicacies  does  the  Lord  of  the  road  provide 
for  aged  pilgrims,  and  have  they  seen  any  particular 
and  wonderful  stars  in  their  evening  sky  ?    Are  not 
all  of  us  unspeakably  poorer  because  these  counsels 
and  inspirations  are  untold  ?    And  our  younger  com 
municants— how  are  they  faring  on  the  new  and 
arduous  road?   What  unsuspected  difficulties  are 
they  meeting?   And  what  unsuspected  provisiona 


A  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH  JTT 

have  they  received?   And  what  privilege  of  servioe 
has  been  given  them,  and  what  inspiring  vision  have 
they  found  in  the  task  ?    And  what  have  our  stalwart 
warriors  to  tell  us  ?    How  goes  the  fight  in  the  busi- 
ness fields,  on  market  and  exchange?    And  what 
hidden  secret  has  the  Lord  of  light  been  unveiling 
to  the  ordained  layman  ?    What  wealth  of  truth  and 
glory?   I  say,  these  are  breadths  of  the  Kowmvia  we 
do  not  traverse,  these  are  mines  we  do  not  work,  and 
the  output  of  our  moral  and  spiritual  energy  is 
consequently  small.    I  know  the  perils  which  abound 
in  these  particular  regions  of  exercised  communion. 
Those  who  have  the  least  to  say  may  be  the  readiest 
to  speak.    The  spiritually  insolvent  may  rise  and 
talk  like  spiritual  millionaires.    The  bloom  of  a 
delicate  reserve  may  be  destroyed,  and  flippant  wit- 
nessing may  become  a  substitute  for  deep  experience. 
Easy  familiarity  may  be  made  the  standard  of  spirit- 
ual attainment,  and  sensational  statements  may  be 
engendered  by  the  hotbeds  of  vanity  and  pride.  In 
r  fellowship-meeting  some  members  may  speak  from 
.  -ibtle  love  of  applause,  while  others  may  speak  from 
cai  equally  iUicit  sense  of  shame.    I  know  all  this, 
Ut  I  know  also  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  entire 
round  of  Christian  worship  and  communion  which 
IS  not  exposed  to  abomination  and  abuse.    There  is 
not  a  single  plant  in  your  garden  which  is  not  the 
gathering-ground  of  some  particular  pest;  ay,  and 
the  more  delicate  and  tender  the  plant,  the  more 
multitudinous  are  the  foes.    But  you  do  not  banish 


«8      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

the  plant  because  of  the  pests;  you  accept  the  plant 
and  guard  against  the  pests;  and  I  for  one  think  it 
not  impossible  to  cultivate  tl.is  larger,  richer,  more 
social  and  familiar  fellowship,  and  at  the  same  time 
to  create  an  atmosphere  in  which  these  invasive 
perils  shall  be  unable  to  breathe.    Under  God,  every- 
thing depends  upon  your  leader;  and  under  God 
cannot  wise  leaders  be  grown  ?— leaders  who  shall 
be  able,  with  a  rare  delicacy  of  tact,  born  of  deep 
imd  unceasing  communion  with  God,  to  draw  out 
the  individual  gift  of  witness  and  experience,  and  by 
the  accumulated  treasure  to  enrich  the  entire  Church 
Our  Church  is  comparatively  poor  and  unimpressive- 
here  is  a  storehouse  of  untouched  resources  which  I 
am   convinced   would   immeasurably   enrich  and 
strengthen  our  equipment  in  our  combined  attack 
against  the  powers  of  darkness.    We  need  to  get 
higher  up  the  mountains.    And  we  need,  too,  to  get 
further  out  upon  the  plains.    "  O,  for  a  closer  walk 
with  God!  "    And  "O,  for  a  closer  walk  with 
man !      Closer  to  the  great  and  holy  God,  that  we 
may  be  possessed  by  a  deepening  and  fertiHsinir 
awe ;  and  clo.er  to  our  brother,  that  we  may  move 
in  the  manifold  inspiration  and  comfort  of  "mutual 
faith    and  experience. 

I  have  not  been  concerned  with  the  suggestion  of 
i^w  expedients.  It  has  not  been  my  purpose  to 
advocate  ov  defend  aggressive  and  mifamiliar  enter- 
pnws.  My  eyes  have  not  been  upon  the  Church's 
conduct,  but  upon  her  character:  not  upon  her  pro- 


A  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH  <9 

spectUB,  bnt  npon  her  capital:  not  upon  her  plan  of 
campaign,  but  upon  her  fighting  strength.    «  Like 

a  mighty  army  moves  the  Church  of  God  I "  Ye« 
but  doos  8he?    Are  not  her  regiments  sometimes 
almost  Falstaffian  in  their  bedraggled  impotence? 
How  shall  sho  increase  her  fighting  power?  IIow 
shaU  she  enrich  her  spirit  of  discipline?    And  1 
have  answered,  By  taking  thought  of  the  untrodden 
heights  and  the  untrodden  breadths  within  her  own 
circle,  by  claiming  her  purposed  and  buried  re- 
sources in  humanity  and  in  God.    I  am  convinced 
that  in  these  ways  we  should  make  undreamt-of  addi- 
tions to  the  energy  and  impact  of  the  Church's 
strength.    No  Church  can  walk  along  these  unfre- 
quer^-id  paths  without  acquiring  the  momenta  of 
8a       'al  grace:  and  when  the  power  of  the  Church 
bee.  .bs  awful  and  sacrificial,  when  she  bears  in  her 
body  the  red  «  marks  of  the  Lord  Jesus,"  when  there 
is  "  blood  upon  iha  lintel  and  the  two  side  posts  of 
her  door,  you  may  be  assured  that  the  arrested  mul- 
titude will  come  together,  drawn  by  the  mesmeric 
gravitation  of  her  own  irresistible  strength.  And 
not  only  strong  shaU  the  Church  become,  strong  in 
unselfish  daring  and  persistence,  but  because  of  the 
very  robustness  of  her  strength  she  shaU  be  tender 
with  an  exquisitely  delicate  compassion.    I  have 
yielded  to  none  in  the  advocacy  of  "  the  wooing  note  " 
in  the  ministry  of  the  word,  and  with  a  growing  and 
richer  confidence  I  advocate  it  still.    But  there  is 
the  wooing  note  of  a  silly,  simpering  sentimeutalism, 


so      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


and  there  is  the  wooing  note  of  strong  and  masculine 
men  who  have  been  cradled  and  moulded  and  homed 
in  the  austere  nursery  and  school  of  the  mountains. 
And  where  can  you  make  your  fine  wooers  if  not 
wnong  the  deepening  ministries  of  the  mountains  ? 
"  How  beautiful  upon  the  mountains  are  the  feet  of 
them  that  bring  glad  tidings  I"  I  shaU  have  no 
fear  about  the  strength  and  sweetness  of  the  wooing 
note  when  we  are  all  the  children  of  the  heights. 

Given  these  conditions,  and  I  believe  the  Church 
will  move  among  the  alienated  multitudes  with  an 
illumined  and  fascinating  constraint.    The  aliena- 
tion of  the  people  is  not  fundamental  and  ultimate. 
Deep  down,  beneath  all  the  visible  severances,  there 
are  living  chords  of  kinship,  ready  to  thrill  and  to 
respond  to  the  royal  note.    Those  living  chords- 
buried  if  you  will  beneath  the  dead  and  deadening 
crust  of  formality  and  sih,  buried,  but  buried  alive- 
are  to  be  found  in  Belgravia,  where  Henry  Drum- 
mond,  that  man  of  the  high  mountains  and  the 
broad  plains,  awoke  them  to  response  by  the  strong, 
tender  impact  of  a  great  evangel  and  a  great  ex- 
perience.   And  those  living  chords  are  also  to  be 
found  at  the  pit's  mouth,  among  the  crooked  and 
pathetic  miners,  and  they  become  vibrant  with  re- 
sponsive devotion,  as  Keir  Hardie  has  told  us  that 
his  became  vibrant,  in  answer  to  the  awakening 
sweep  of  the  strong,  tender  hands  of  the  Nazarene. 
The  multitude  is  not  sick  of  Jesus;  it  is  only  sick 
of  His  feeble  and  bloodless  representatives.  When 


A  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH  81 

once  again  a  great  Church  appears,  a  Church  with 

the  Lord's  name  in  her  forehead,  a  Church  with 
fine  muscular  limbs  and  face  seamed  with  the  marks 
of  sacrifice,  the  multitude  will  turn  their  feet  to 
the  way  of  God's  commandments.    I  sat  a  little  while 
ago  in  one  of  the  chambers  of  the  National  Gallery, 
and  my  attention  was  caught  by  the  vast  miscellane 
ous  crowd  as  it  sauntered  and  gaUoped  through  the 
rooms.    All  sorts  and  conditions  of  people  passed 
by— rich  and  poor,  the  well-dressed  and  the  beggarly 
students  and  artisans,  soldiers  and  sailors,  maidens' 
just  out  of  school  and  wom-n  bowed  and  wrinkl  jd 
in  age:  but,  whoever  they  were,  and  however  un- 
arresting may  have  been  aU  the  other  pictures  in  the 
chamber,  every  single  soul  in  th  ^  mortal  crowd 
stopped  dead  and  silent  before  a  picture  of  our 
Saviour  bearing  His  cross  to  the  hill.   And  when 
the  Church  is  seen  to  be  His  body— His  very  body: 
His  hps,  His  eyes.  His  ears.  His  hands.  His  feet, 
ffis  brain,  His  heart:  His  very  body-and  when  the 
Church  repeats,  in  this  her  corporate  life,  the  brave 
and  manifold  doings  of  Judaea  and  Galilee,  she  too 
shall  awe  the  multitude,  and  by  God's  grace  she 
shall  convert  the  pregnant  wonder  into  deep  and 
grateful  devotion. 

Our  times  are  disturbed,  and  hopefully  and  fruit 
fully  disturbed,  by  vast  and  stupendous  problems. 
On  every  side  the  latch  is  lifting,  and  the  door  of 
opportun^T  stands  ajar.  But  we  shall  fail  in  our 
day,  as  other  men  have  failed  in  their  day,  unless  by 


at      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

faith  and  experience  we  enter  into  "  the  fcillowship 
of  Hia  aufferingg,"  and  become  clothed  with  "  the 
power  of  Hia  resnrrection."  Sound  aocial  economica 
are  not  enough;  sound  political  prindplea  ne  not 

enough;  sound  creeds  and  jwlities  are  not  enough. 
Tlie  most  robust  and  muscular  principle  will  faint 
and  grow  weary  unless  i(  .'s  allied  with  character 
which  is  rendered  unicpie  and  irresistil.lc  l.v  unbroken 
communion  with  the  mind  and  will  of  God.  It  is 
"  Christ  in  w  "  which  is  "  (he  hope  of  glory,"  both 
for  the  individual  and  the  State. 

Let  us  abide  in  Him  in  total  and  glorious  self- 
abandonment.    Let  nothing  move  us  from  our  root- 
age.    Let  us  "  pray  without  c(>asing,"  and  let  our 
consecration  be  so  complete  and  confident  that  there 
may  be  presented  unto  the  world  a  Church  "  alive 
unto  God";  a  Church  as  abounding  in  signs 
vitality  as  hedgerows  in  the  spring;  a  Church  quick- 
ened in  moral  vision,  in  intelleetual  perception,  in 
emotional  discernment;  a  Church  acute,  compaasion- 
ate  and  daring,  moving  amid  the  changing  circum- 
stances of  men  in  the  very  spirit  of  her  Lord,  and 
presenting  everyw.here  the  arresting  ^linistry  of  "  a 
hiding-place  from  the  wind,  a  covert  from  the  temp- 
est, rivers  of  water  in  a  dry  place,  and  the  shadow 
of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land  I 


n 

THE  WONDERS  OF  REDEMPTION 

"I  have  bem  crucified  with  Christ;  y.-t  I  live;  and  yet  no 
eager  I.  but  Christ  Hveth  in  me;  and  that  life  which  I  now 
hve  ,n  tl,e  (lesl,  I  live  in  faith,  the  faith  whicb  la  la  the  Son  of 
Ood,  who  loved  me,  and  gave  Uinuelf  for  me."— Oal.  it  SO. 

What  shaU  we  do  with  this  passage?   How  shaU 
we  approach  it?    ShaU  we  come  to  it  aa  guests  or  as 

controversialists,  as  suppliants  or  as  combatants? 
The  fiercest  action  at  Waterloo  was  fought  round 
about  a  farm,  where  the  fruits  were  ripening  in  the 
orchard,  and  the  fields  were  mellowing  for  the 
harvest.    The  farmstead  was  treated  as  a  battle- 
field, and  the  ploughshares  were  beaten  into  swords, 
and  the  pruning  ho<^  were  converted  into  spears, 
and  the  blowing  com  was  trampled  in  the  gory  clay. 
And  here,  too,  is  a  farmstead,  and  the  fruit  hangs 
ripe  upon  the  branches,  and  the  corn  is  vellow  for 
the  harvest.    How  then?    Shall  we  make  it  a  Sort  of 
Waterloo,  or  shall  we  walk  with  our  Lord  in  the 
garden  « at  the  cool  of  the  day "  ?    I  would  ap- 
proach It  as  a  guest  and  not  as  a  soldier.    I  come  to 
feast  and  not  to  fight    I  would  «  sit  down  under 
the  shadow,"  and  His  fruit  shall  be  «  sweet  unto  iny 
taste."    Behind  the  familiar  words  of  my  text  there 
are  tremendous  experiences,  the  secrets  of  which 
lead  us  into  the  innermost  sanctuary  of  the  hallowed 

98 


84      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

love  and  grace  of  God.    And  therefore  I  say  I  would 
rather  smg  the  song  of  the  harvest-home  than  the 
song  of  any  victor  whose  ecclesiastical  enemy  lies 
prone  upon  the  bloody  field.    Survey  the  field  I 
Who  loved  me  and  gave  Himself  for  me."  There 
we  have  the  passion  of  redemption.    "/  am  cruet- 
fied  v^^th  Christ,  yet  I  live."    There  we  have  the 
mystery  of  re-creation.    "/  li,e  in  faith,  the  faith 
which  IS  rn  the  Son  of  God."    There  we  have  the 
secret  of  appropriation.    Such  is  this  Scriptural 
farmstead  m  whose  over-flowing  fields  and  barns  it 
IS  our  privilege  to  make  our  home. 

Here,  then,  is  the  passion  of  redemption.    «  The 
Son  ^  of  God  who  loved  me,  and  gave  Himself  for 
me.     But  at  once  notice  an  obtrusion  which  so 
many  of  our  modern  thinkers  seem   to  resent 
Who  oved  rne."    That  is  neurotic,  and  we  prefer 
the  philosophic.    It  is  sentimental,  and  we  prefer 
he  mental.    The  light  is  too  glaring,  too  sensa- 
tional,  too  perfervid,  too  sunny,  and  we  prefer  the 
cooler  and  less  exciting  radiance  of  the  moon. 

^^  ho  loved  me."  The  emotions  are  stealing  into 
the  nund,  like  a  moist  Alpine  mist  rising  from  the 
vale,  and  mixing  itself  with  the  light  of  common 
day,  and  many  moderns  resent  the  combination. 
Ihey  regard  the  ministry  of  emotion  as  deflecting 
he  judgment;  they  prefer  desiccated  light,  dry  light, 
light  which  is  absolutely  proof  against  the  invasion 
ot  sentiment  and  tears. 
And  so  there  are  two  process^  at  work.  First, 


WONDERS  OF  REDEMPTION  S5 

there  is  the  de-sentimentali^iiig  of  the  religious  life. 
We  shy  at  sentiment  as  we  should  ahj  at  known 
poison.    We  are  loud  in  j- reclaiming  the  perils  of  an 
emotional  religion,  and       a.o  buf?y  draining  away 
the  emotion  and  leaving  the  religion  hard  and  dry. 
And  because  we  de-sentimentalise  there  is  a  correla- 
tive process,  and  we  de-personalise.    Personal  love 
is  transformed  into  diffused  energy,  the  ministering 
angels  become  established  laws,  delicate  intimacies 
are  regarded  as  the  interaction  of  psychic  forces,  the 
personal  pronouns  become  abstract  nouns,  the  per- 
sonal movement  in  the  verb  becomes  a  mere  current 
of  the  cosmos  in  which  the  sacredness  of  individu- 
ality is  entirely  lost.    Here  is  a  contrast  which  I 
will  present  to  you  as  indicating  this  particular  perU 
of  our  time.    On  the  one  hand,  "  Where  two  or  three 
are  gathered  together  in  My  name  there  am  I  in  the 
midst  of  them."   And  on  the  other  hand,  "The 
psychic  forces  are  ubiquitous  and  communion  is 
established  by  pure  volition." 

Well,  is  not  all  this  very  thin,  and  attended  by 
infinite  peril?  We  all  recognise  the  dangers  of  an 
emotional  piety,  but  there  are  almost  equally  great 
dangers  in  a  piety  from  which  emotion  is  entirely 
banished.  A  perfectly  dry  eye  is  blind,  and  a  per- 
fectly dry  religion  has  no  sight  We  always  have 
the  clearest  vision  when  there's  moisture  in  the  air, 
and  a  wise  personal  sentiment  has  its  appointed 
place  m  the  vision  of  God,  and  in  the  creation  of  a 
fruitful  intercourse  between  the  soul  and  Him.  The 


86       THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

personal  and  the  cniotional  have  had  their  prominent 
ministry  m  the  lives  of  all  conspicuous  saint..    It  is 
certainly  true  of  Paul;  the  sentence  in  my  text  is 
gpical  of  many  more.    "  Who  loved  me  and  gave 
Himself  for  me!  "    "  Weigh  diligently,"  says  Mar- 
tin Lutlier,  -  every  word  of  Paul,  and  especially 
mark  well  Ins  pronouns  .  .  .  wherein  also  there  is 
ever  some  vehemency  and  power."    And  it  is  all 
equally  true  of  Luther  Inniself.    Take  his  great 
commentary  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Galatians,  and  you 
will  find  that  although  it  is  so  martial  in  its  mL\ 
and  so  severely  and  consistently  polemical,  yet  thJ 
personal  emphasis  is  rarely  absent,  and  the  emotions 
are  frequently  stirred  like  the  brimming  fulness  of 
he  spring  tules.    Even  ( ^dvin  himself  becomes  emo- 
tional  and  a  tender  sentiment  lies  ui)on  his  thought, 
like  the  dews  upon  the  open  moors,  when  he  contem- 
plates the  wonders  of  redeeming  grace.    If  we  have 
ever  been  tempted  to  think  of  Calvin  as  hard  and 
dry  and  rigi.I,  more  a  herbalist  than  a  gardener, 
^y.^h   he  scheme  of  his  thought  stretching  over  his 
hfc  l.ke  a  rainless  sky,  a  man  devoid  of  sentiment 
and  inca,,a  .lo  of  tears-if  such  has  been  our  thought 
of  Calvin,  H  us  accon.pany  him  through  the  Epistle 
to  the  Ephesians,  and  we  shall  discover  how  the 
merely  theological  becomes  the  devotional,  how  the 
severely  controversial  becomes  the  worshipful,  how 
argument  breaks  into  rapture,  and  how  restrained 
emot.on  bursts  its  dykes,  and  the  man's  adoration 
becomes  moist  with  grateful  tears.   It  is  aU  equaUy 


WONDEKS  OF  REDEMPTION  87 

true  of  another  man,  nearer  to  our  own  time,  who  is 
not  eclipsed  even  when  set  'i  the  radiant  succession 
of  Calvin  and  Luther  and  Paul.    There  is  nothing 

more  characteristic  of  Spurgeon  than  the  personal 
emphasis,  the  daring  use  of  the  pronouns,  and  the 
rich,  full  sentiment  that  ever  plays  about  his  con- 
templations of  the  grace  and  love  of  his  Lord. 
The  greatest  wonder  in  the  two  worlds  of  heaven 
and  earth  he  says  is  this,  that  "  He  loved  me,  and 
gave  Himself  for  me!"    "It  rings  like  marriage 
bells  in  the  heart !    Xot  all  the  harps  of  heaven  can 
sound  out  sweeter  music  than  this,  when  the  Holy 
Spirit  speaks  it  to  iny  soul,  '  The  Son  of  God,  who 
loved  me,  and  gave  Himself  for  me.'  "    That  is  the 
grateful  sentiment  of  a  strong  man,  and  these  are  all 
strong  men,  giants  ali  :ig  the  pilgrim  way,  and  they 
never  attempt  to  denude  their  piety  of  emotion  or  to 
de-personalise  their  religious  life.    They  are  great  in 
the  use  of  the  pronouns,  and  great  in  the  flow  of 
tender  yearning  and  desire,  and  their  reason  is  all 
the  more  masculine,  and  their  will  is  all  the  more 
massive  because  they  do  not  deny  the  native  rights 
of  the  heart.    And  all  1  wish  to  add  is  this,  let  us 
beware  lest,  in  a  healthy  recoil  from  a  wishy-washy 
sentimentalism,  which  pays  little  homage  to  the 
reason,  we  too  "  enter  into  life  maimed,"  by  adopt- 
ing a  desiccated  rationalism,  which  dries  up  the  very 
sap  of  piety,  and  drains  away  that  fine  emotion 
which  is  absolutely  requisite  to  the  finer  issues  of 
our  faith. 


««      THE  TRANSFIGUKKD  CHURCH 

miS^*^^""  "f^"'''  P^'-"'"'  el»Oing  in  the 
m»«to7  of  redemption.   "He  Wed  me,  and  gave 

awful  bondage.    Tiere  was  the  fe»f«l  appetite  for 
There  wa,  the  relentless  elaim  of  violated 
law.    The.e  was  the  nemesis  of  guilt.    There  was 

Tt.  A  ^    "  'te  Lover  loved 

tte  hondslave,  and  the  glorious  erusade  of  the  W 
was  by  love  to  bring  "  deliver«,ee  to  the  captive,  and 
he  open.^  of  the  prison  to  th».  that  a«  h.^' 
loved      Just  there  a  false  sentiment  ia  bom. 
^ow  love     holy.    At  the  very  heart  of  infinite 

hZessI"  of  His 

ment  irom  which  strong  men  recoa  There  U  a  Kn- 
t.mentahsm  which  bows  befo«  no  shrine  o"^n 
.WL       '1  laekadaisicdT^S 

ceives  love  a,  ,  pretty  rainbow,  and  not  as  «  a  rain- 
how  round  about  the  throne."  It  gathers  a  hanZ 
of  flower,  on  the  lower  dope,  of  tte  mountains  Z 
never  ranges  above  the  snowline,  amW  CZ- 
■■"pmng,  breath-gripping  solitud«  of  the^tall^ 
»ows.    res,  that  is  the  obtrusive  Z^^^ 


WONDERS  OF  REDEMPTION  S9 

sentiment  and  sentimentalism.    Sentimentalism  is 
bom  among  the  flowers:  a  noble  sentiment  is  born 
among  the  snows.    Sentimentalism  is  bom  among 
graces:  sentiment  is  bom  amid  grace.  Sentimental- 
ism  moves   easily   among  kindnesses:  sentiment 
moves  wonderingly  amid  holiness.    And  therefore,  I 
say,  sentimentalism  is  inherently  mawkish,  while 
trae  sentiment  is  inherently  austere.  Sentimental- 
ism takes  liberties,  while  "the  fear  of  the  Lord  is 
clean."   When,  therefore,  I  hear  the  evangel,  "  He 
loved  me,"  I  know  that  the  glorious  ministry  is  bom 
of  holiness:  love  is  holiness  in  exercise,  it  is  holiness 
in  gracious  movement,  it  is  "  a  river  of  water  of  life 
proceeding  out  of  the  throne  of  God  and  the  Lamb." 
Our  Lover  is  holy,  and  holy  is  His  love.    "  He  loved 
me  I  "—the  unholy  and  the  unclean. 

And  because  love  ia  holy,  love  is  inconceivably 
^naitive.    The  unhallowed  is  the  insensitive,  for  sin 
is  ever  the  minister  of  benumbment.    Yes,  the 
unclean  makes  the  moral  powers  numb,  and  after 
every  sin  the  sensitiveness  is  dulled,  and  life's  re- 
sponsiveness impaired.    The  gradient  of  purity  is 
also  the  gradient  of  feeling:  they  advance  or  retro- 
grade with  equal  steps.    And  therefore  it  is  im- 
possible for  us  to  reaUse,  even  remotely,  the  sensi- 
tiveness of  holiness,  and  therefore,  again,  our  Sa- 
viour's sorrows  are  inoonoeivaWe.  «  Was  ever  sorrow 
Idee  unto  my  sorrow?"    "He  trod  the  winepress 
alone."    Holy  love  is  infinitely  sensitive,  and  "  H» 
loved  me,  and  gave  Himself  for  me." 


40       THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

And  because  holy  love  is  sensitive,  holy  love  is 
redemptive.    Holiness  is  ever  positive  anil  aggres- 
sive, seeking  by  its  own  "  consuming  fire  "  to  burn 
the  hateful  germs  of  sin.    We  may  test  our  growth 
in  holiness,  not  by  our  cloistered  recoil  from  undean- 
ness,  but  by  our  positive  action  upon  it.    Holiness  is 
not  secretive,  exclusive,  but  sanative  and  redemptive. 
It  takes  live  coals  from  its  altar-fires  wherewith  to 
purge  the  lips  of  the  defiled.    A  negative  holiness  is 
as  monstrous  as  a  square  circle,  or  a  heatkss  fire. 
"  He  shall  baptise  you  with  the  Holy  Ghost  and  with 
fire,  and  ye  shall  be  .  .  .»    Which  just  means 
this:  holy  love  shaU  be  an  eager  servant  in  the  min- 
istry of  a  positive  redemption.    And  so  "  He  loved 
me,"  He  saw  me  in  my  low  estate,  and  in  His 
holinees  He  sought  my  holiness  and  my  everlasting 
peace. 

"He  loved  me,  and  He  gave  Himself  for  me." 
For  holy,  sensitive,  redemptive  love  must  of  necessity 
be  sacrificial.    It  is  the  very  genius  of  holiness  to  be 
superlative,  and  in  its  sacrificial  ministry  it  sacrifices 
self.    "He  gave  Himself  forme!"  WOl  my  readers 
wonder  if  I  say  that  John  Calvin,  in  his  marveUous 
exposition  of  this  epistle,  devotes  only  half-a-dozen 
lines  to  an  attempted  interpretation  of  this  phrase  ? 
And  what  is  the  reason?    Why,  this.    That  the 
great  theologian  lays  down  his  pen  in  glorious,  but 
overwhelming  and  impotent  bewilderment  I  "No 
words,"  he  says,  "can  properly  express  what  this 
means;  for  who  can  find  language  to  dedare  the 


WONDERS  OP  REDEMPTION  4] 

exeeUencyof  theSonof  God!"   And  so,  I  say,  he 
just  lays  downs  his  pen,  and  contemplates  the  glory 
in  speechless  wonder  I   «  He  gave  Himself  for  met »' 
He  endued  Himseif  with  the  robe  of  flesh.  He  en- 
tered the  house  of  bondage,  He  took  upon  Him  the 
form  of  a  bondslave  that  He  might  set  the  bondslave 
free.    He  walked  the  pilgrim  path  of  limitation,  the 
path  of  sorrow  and  temptation;  face  to  face  He  met 
the  devil,  face  to  face  He  met  "  the  terror  feared  of 
man,"  becoming  "  obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death 
of  the  cross."   «  He  gave  Himself  for  me ! "  And 
in  that  holy  sacrifice  of  love  the  holy  law  of  God 
received  perfect  obedience,  the  violated  law  of  God 
received  a  holy  satisfaction,  the  sovereignty  of  the 
devil  was  smitten  and  overthrown,  boastful  death  lost 
Its  sting,  and  the  omnivorous  grave  its  victory! 
"O  death,  where  is  thy  sting?   Q  grave,  where  is 
thy  victory t»   And  He  did  it  aU,  did  it  all! 
"  Wilt  thou  bring  %  cowl,  thy  shaven  crown,  thy 
chastity,  thy  purity,  thy  works,  thy  merits  f"  He 
did  it  all !    Says  Luther,  "  Paul  had  nothing  in  his 
mouth  but  Christ." 

"  Nothing  in  my  hands  I  brings 
Simply  to  Thy  crow  I  ding.** 

"  He  loved  me  and  gave  Himself  for  me."   Such  is 

the  passion  of  redemption. 

Now  let  mo  pass  to  the  secret  of  appropriation. 
"  That  life  which  I  now  live  I  live  in  faith,  ike  faith 
which  is  in  the  Son  of  God,"   And  so  the  virtue!  fd 


«      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

the  love-sacrifice  are  to  become  mine  by  faith,  for  by 
faith  I  become  incorporated  with  the  triumphant 
lord.    Yes,  but  what  is  faith?    It  is  not  the  de- 
liberate blinding  of  the  judgment    It  is  not  tremu- 
lous movement  in  a  small,  fusty  room,  in  which  the 
casement  window  is  studiously  kept  shuttered,  and 
m  which  we  make  a  pious  vow  never  to  open  the 
lattice,  and  let  in  the  morning  light  and  air.  Now 
is  faith  the  dethronement  of  the  reason,  and  the 
coronation  of  caprice?    It  is  not  "the  shutting  of 
the  eyes,"  and  « the  opening  of  the  mouth,"  in 
umllumined  expectation.  Faith  is  reasonable  dealing 
m  reasonable  things.    Faith  is  in  the  science  of 
religion  what  experiment  is  in  the  science  of  matter. 
Faith  IS  reasonable  experiment  with  the  glorious 
hypotheses  of  Christ.    We  begin  with  hypotheses, 
we  discover  truth.    But  in  the  Christian  religion  all 
the  hypotheses  centre  round  about  the  Saviour  Him- 
self and  therefore  personal  faith  is  personal  dealing 
with  Christ,  faith  is  trust,  experiment  is  com 
mumon,  exploration  is  by  consecration,  knowledge 
IS  by  homage;  we  lose  our  life  and  we  find  it  again 
m  our  Lord.    Faith,  therefore,  is  not  finally  mental 
or  emotional,  but  volitional.    Faith  is  ultimately 
an  act  of  the  will :  it  is  the  personal  surrender  of  the 
life  to  the  governance  of  the  Saviourhood  of  Christ 
It  18  the  human  side  of  the  marriage-covenant  be- 
tween the  Lamb  and  tiie  Lamb's  bride.   Faith  is 
the  human  end  of  the  ministry  which  establishes 
union  between  the  soul  and  its  Lord.    "We  are 


WONDERS  OF  REDEMPTION  48 

justified  by  faith."    <*Th«t  life  which  I  now  live 
I  live  in  faith,  the  faith  which  is  in  the  Son  of  God 
who  loved  me  and  gave  Himself  for  me."  Such 

the  secret  of  appropriation. 

So  far  for  the  f  assioii  of  redemption,  and  the 
secret  of  appropriation;  and  now,  thirdly,  the  won- 
ders of  w-creation.    What  are  to  be  the  issues  of 
^  union  according  to  the  teachings  of  my  text? 
First  of  all,  Uiere  is  to  be  a  certain  moHification: 
I  am  crucified  with  Christ."   «  The  apostle  speak- 
eth,   says  one  who  is  greatly  at  home  in  the  affairs 
of  the  heart  "of  that  high  crucifying,  whereby  sin, 
the  devil  and  death  are  crucified  in  Christ,  and  not 
m  me  But  I,  believing  in  Christ,  am  by  faith 

crucifiea  also  with  Christ,  so  that  all  these  things 
are  crucified  and  dead  unto  me."  Ay,  and  that  Z 
fictionally,  but  in  sober  and  most  literal  truth.  One 
of  the  gifts  of  redemption  is  a  certain  deadness; 
there  is  a  dead  side  to  a  true  believer:  on  that  side, 
while  he  believes,  his  senses  do  not  operate,  and  he 
offers  no  response.    Have  I  not  seen  it  scores  upon 

^  belief  has  become  one  with  Christ,  and  who  has 
become  de^  to  the  old  baneful  world  of  haunting 
gui  t?   Did  I  not  hear  one  say,  who  had  revelled 
forty  years  m  sin,  and  who  had  become  united  with 
he  Lord  that  that  forty-year-old  man  was  dead, 
crucified  with  Christ,"  and  if  any  accusing  d.^ 
should  shake  a  threatening  finger  at  him,  he Tould 
toni^  m  triumph,  the  finger  was  pointed  at  the  dead, 


44      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

for  that  particular  man  "was  crucified,  dead  and 
buried,  and  his  life  was  hid  with  Christ  in  God ! » 
And  have  I  not  seen  a  believer,  who  by  belief  has 
become  one  with  Christ,  and  who  has  become  dead  to 
the  inaidioiu  fascination  of  a  glittering  and  destruc- 
Uve  worid?    "Good-bye,  proud  world,  I'm  going 
home !  »   And  have  I  not  seen  a  believer,  who  by  be- 
lief has  become  one  ^yith  Christ,  and  who  has  become 
dead  to  death,  and  in  death  has  exulted  in  "  the  power 
of  an  endless  life."    Oh,  yes,  one  of  the  primary 
^ts  of  grace  is  the  gift  of  deadness— deadness  to 
the  threat  of  yesterday,  deadness  to  the  fear  of  to- 
morrow, deadness  to  the  frown  of  the  immediate 
circumstance,  and  dea.    «  to  majestic  death  itself! 
The  last  enemy  that  shall  be  destroyed  is  death." 
/  have  been  crucified  with  Christ."    "  I  died." 
But  there  are  other  fruits  of  the  union  which  is 
humanly  established  by  f  ,:th  in  Christ.    "I  have 
be«i  crucified  with  Chr         mortification;  "yet 
/i.i;<?":  vitalisationi    "If  we  died  with  Him,  we 
shall  also  live  with  HimI »    The  gift  of  deadness 
18  the  companion  gift  of  vitaUty.  "Everything 
shall  hve  whither  the  river  cometh."  Dormant 
powers  shall  be  aroused  and  shall  troop  forth  out 
of  their  graves,  powers  of  holy  perception,  and  holy 
desire,  and  holy  sympathy,  and  holy  faculty  for 
«»vice.    And  old  powers  shall  be  renewed,  and  they 
shall  be  like  amemio  weaklings  who  have  attained  a 
bwiterous  vitality.    Our  powers  are  far  from  their 
beat  until  they  become  united  to  CJhrist   I  saw  a 


WONDERS  OF  REDElfFTION  46 

Kt  of  edelweisc  the  other  day  ^-owing  in  a  garden 
in  one  of  onr  sabnrbe;  but  it  had  to  be  labelled,  it 
was  80  nnlike  its  mawmline  ki]»man  gripping  the 
desolate  precipices  of  the  lofty  Alps.  Ay,  you  must 
see  the  edelweiss  at  home!  And  if  we  wmt  to  see 
what  love  really  is,  and  will,  and  conscience,  and 
chivalry,  we  must  see  them  at  home,  in  their  native 
dime,  rooted  and  grounded  in  the  life  and  love  of 
the  eternal  Lord.  « In  Christ  shall  aU  be  made 
alive." 

"I  have  been  crucified  with  Christ:  yet  I  live- 
and  yet  no  longer  I,  hut  Christ  .  .  ./"   So  that 

IS  where  we  arrive.    Mortification  by  Christ,  vitaK- 
sation  in  Christ,  the  manifestation  of  Christ,  "I 
live,  yet  no  longer  I."    What  is  that  but  he  supprea- 
swn  of  the  ego?    Would  it  not  be  better  to  say, 
What  IS  that  but  the  conversion  and  transfiguration 
of  the  ego,  and  the  emergence  of  the  Lord  ?    «  No 
longer  I,  Christ  liveth  in  mei  »   The  Lord  who  per- 
vades the  hfe  also  dominates  it.    "The  life  which 
I  now  live  in  the  flesh  "  reveals  His  power  and  His 
glory.    He  takes  my  humble  affairs  and  He  uaea 
them  as  the  shrine  of  His  own  Presence,  the  lamp, 
stand  for  His  own  eternal  light.    The  life  in  tht 
hwne,  in  the  market,  in  the  school,  in  the  senate, 
m  the  doset,  in  the  polling-booth,-the  entire  drcuit 
of  that  hfe  "  which  I  now  Kve  in  the  flesh,"  « I  li^ 
m  faith!"   «i  li^e,  yet  no  longer  I,  but  Christ 
hveth  m  me."   That  is  the  Christian  ideal,  and  that 
IS  the  Christian  poasibiUty,  however  pitiaUy 


46      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


we  may  be  from  its  atttinment.   Yes,  that  10  the 

ideal,  that  Christ  lives  again  in  me,  that  my  activities 
are  the  motions  of  my  Lord;  that  in  me  He  faces 
again  the  Pharisee,  in  me  lie  denounces  again  the 
oppressor  of  "  the  poor  and  him  that  hath  no  helper," 
in  me  He  ministers  again  to  the  hungry,  the  para- 
lysed, and  the  fever-stricken,  and  in  me  He  cham- 
pions again  the  cause  of  the  Magdalene  and  the  little 
child.  "  I  live,  yet  no  longer  I,  but  Christ."  Men 
shall  gaze  upon  the  issues  of  the  life,  and  say,  "  It  is 
the  Lord !  "  and  they  shall  glorify  our  Father  which 
is  in  heaven. 


m 

THE  LOVE  OF  GOD 

I  am  not  going  to  argue  about  it,  I  seek  to  enjoy 
It    I  am  not  going  f  prove  it,  but  to  proclaim  it. 

feast   For  the  soul  i«     subt^  tempted  to  snend  in 
controversy  what  ought  to  be  used  in  approi  "  a 
It  IS  surely  well  that  we  should  frequently  put  a«xde 
our  attempted  analyses  of  the  breirf  of  life  «»d 

should  "taste  and  see  how  gracious  the  Lor^  ^ 
We  must  not  always  be  in  tbe  laboratory;  the 

'  and  feed  upon  the  rich  provisions  of  His 
taWe.    And  therefore  my  purpose  is  a  very  simple 
one,  however  difficult  it  may  be  of  achievemL  1 
w  to  attempt  to  vivify  that  moat  tremendous  com 

and  hve  an  it,  the  assurance  would  be  a  Strang 
~r  of  personal  redemption.  It  would  1^ 
fi-^s  to  our  thinking,  nobility  to  our  feeing 

Bpmtof  mournmg  into  the  habits  of  praise. 

God  loves  you  I »    How  shall  I  think  about  it  ? 
There  are  those  who  tell  us  we  can  fnr^  «^ 
tionofif     Tf  k.1  ^®  c*»  lonn  no  concep- 

we  have  never  traversed,  and  whieh  a^.^^^  ^ 


48      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


known.    We  can  no  more  realise  it  than  we  can  real- 
ise the  boundless  stretches  of  forest  In  the  mid-west 
of  America  from  the  possession  of  a  pineneedle,  or 
the  splendours  of  its  gorgeous  canyons  from  a  square 
inch  of  coloured  stone,  or  its  multitudinous  bird- 
life  from  one  feather  of  a  songster's  wing.  Things 
are  so  vastly  different  in  range  and  profundity  be- 
tween the  human  and  the  Divine  that  we  cannot 
safely  reason  from  one  to  the  other.    Well,  if  that  be 
so,  all  pretended  revelation  of  God  is  a  mockery  and 
a  delusion.    We  may  as  well  cast  it  out  as  rubbish 
to  the  void,  we  may  as  well  close  the  doors  and 
windows  of  our  minds  and  make  our  judgments 
Wind.    Not  so  do  I  accept  our  position.   I  have  no 
sympathy  with  those  who  disparage  the  nobilities  of 
human  life  in  order  to  magnify  the  nobility  of  God. 
We  do  not  magnify  His  beauty  by  deliberately  call- 
ing our  own  beautiful  things  ugly.    We  do  not 
glorify  the  love  of  God  by  treating  a  pure  mother's 
love  as  tinselled  jeweUery,  or  as  seedy  and  unworthy 
moral  attire.    We  must  reason  from  the  best  we 
know  to  what  exists  in  God.   And,  therefore,  quietly 
and  confidently  T  accept  the  best  and  the  fairest  in 
human  love  as  my  implement,  however  poor  it  be, 
in  my  exploration  of  the  glorious  love  of  God.  Hu- 
man love  is  not  as  a  dead  feather,  plucked  from  a 
dead  bird,  in  its  relation  to  the  grandeur  of  a  con- 
tinent   It  is  a  songster  itself,  and  filling  the  air 
with  song.   Human  love  is  not  a  bit  of  the  furniture 
of  the  Homeland,  it  is  a  veritaUe  bit  of  its  life. 


THE  LOVE  OF  GOD  49 

When,  therefore,  I  want  to  think  of  the  love  of  God, 
I  do  not  reject  the  helpful  suggestion  of  human 
motherhood,  and  fatherhood,  and  wifehood,  and  hus- 
bandhood,  and  childhood.    Nay,  rather  do  I  listen 
to  their  iMusie  all  the  more  eagerly,  and  in  their  love- 
strains  I  hmr  "  sweet  snatclics  of  the  songs  above," 
faint  echoes  of  the  wonderful  love  of  God.    No,  the 
love  of  our  Father  in  heaven  is  not  altogether  unlike 
the  love  of  all  good  fathers  on  earth.   It  is  very  like 
and  yet  very  unlike;  so  like  as  to  be  akin,  so  unlike 
that  It  fills  us  with  adoring  wonder  and  praise;  so 
like,  as  the  vast  organ  and  the  harmonium  are  akin, 
and  can  express  the  same  tune:  so  unlike  that,  as' 
with  the  organ  and  the  harmonium,  one  overwhelms 
the  other  in  range  and  capacity,  in  height  and  depth, 
m  length  and  breadth  of  musical  glory.    "  God  loves 
you,"  and  you  have  heard  a  bit  of  the  tune  in  your 
mother's  love,  in  your  father's  love,  in  the  love  of 
your  husband,  in  the  love  of  your  wife,  in  the  love  of 
your  little  child.    Human  love  may  be  only  as  a 
child's  earliest  broken  song  in  comparison  with  the 
Hallelujali  Chorus,  but  it  is  akin.    "  Now  Jonathan 
loved  David;"  "God  loves  thee." 

If  that  be  so,  the  Bible  encourages  us  to  think  in  a 
great  and  magnificent  way  of  this  love  of  God,  of 
which  we  catch  faint  strains  in  human-kind.  Let 
us  remind  ourselves  how  we  are  encouraged  to  think 
about  it. 

First  of  all,  then,  we  are  taught  to  think  that  God's 
iove  IS  the  most  real  thing  in  the  universe.  What 


50      THE  THANSPIGURED  CHURCH 

are  the  real  things  in  the  universe,  the  things  that 
veritably  abide?  In  other  days  men  spake  of  the 
unchanging  heavens  and  the  everlasting  hills.  But 
even  while  they  used  the  figure  of  speech,  in  their 
very  hearts  they  knew  that  the  very  thing  which  had 
provided  the  symbol  was  in  a  state  of  flux  and  was 
passing  away.  Concerning  those  very  heavens  they 
said,     As  a  vesture  shalt  Thou  roll  them  up,  and 

mey  said.    At  Thy  presence  they  melt  awa^  "  Yes 
even  the  things  which  provide  our  symbols  of  the' 
permanent  are  themselves  fading  away.    But  the 
transiency  of  the  material  needs  no  emphasis. 

Change  and  decay  in  all  around  I  see."  We  have 
only  to  return  to  the  home  of  our  childhood  and 
look  upon  the  broken  circle  of  our  mends:  nay,  to 
revisit  a  place  after  an  absence  of  ten  years  gives  lis 
a  startling  revelation  of  the  silent  ravages  of  de- 
structive time.    It  is  certainly  not  in  the  material 
realm  hat  we  find  the  real  and  the  permanent.  Our 
painfully  accumulated  riches  "take  to  themselves 
wings  and  fly  away."   Where,  then,  shall  we  look 
for  the  real  ?    I^ot  again  in  hmnan  disposition, 
i^^ven  the  noblest  strains  are  fickle  and  broken.  The 
son^ter  ^  the  victim  of  caprice,  and  has  his  silent 
moods    Discords  afflict  the  harmony;  sometime,  the 
noblest  mu«c  is  like  jangled  bells,  "  out  of  tune  and 
harsh.     Where,  then,  shall  we  look  for  it?   In  "the 

nl  There  is  nothing  transitory  about  it, 

nothing  fickle,  nothing  capricious,  nothing  shadowy 


THE  LOVE  OF  GOD  51 

nothing  unreal.  God's  love  abides,  the  permanent 
background  m  the  moving  play.  We  cannot  awake 
and  find  it  absent;  and  whUe  we  sleep  it  never  steals 
away.  It  is  the  most  real  thing  in  the  universe.  It 
never  changes;  and  God  loves  thee.  "  I  have  loved 
thee  with  an  everlasting  love." 

And  then  we  are  taught  to  think  that  God's  love  is 
the  biggest  thing  in  the  universe.    Let  us  think  of 
some  of  the  biggest  things  we  know,  and  then  we 
will  lift  our  eyes  upon  one  that  is  bigger  than  all. 
WeU,  first  of  all,  there  is  sin.    Take  up  the  news- 
paper  m  these  days  when  everything  is  dragged  into 
a  glaring  pubUeity,  when  nothing  is  allowed  to  re- 
mam  veiled  or  concealed.    Bead  the  accounts  from 
the  police-courts,  or  sometimes  worse  still,  read  the 
poliee-work  done  by  the  newspaper  itself.    Let  the 
hideousness  pile  itself  before  our  gaze.    Then  add 
to  It  the  sin,  often  the  blacker  sin,  of  which  the 
police  can  take  no  account    Think  of  the  vice  which 
18  clever  enough  to  keep  within  the  circle  of  legal 
virtue.    Think  of  the  indecency  which  does  not  be- 
come  obscenity.    Think  of  the  unfairness  which 
does  not  break  the  law  of  theft.    Think  of  the  well- 
trimmed  or  suggestive  gossip  which  guard3  itself 
from  the  law  of  libel.    Think  of  the  insinuations 
which  ai«  not  indictments,  and  the  enmity  which  is 
not  scandal    Again,  let  the  hideousness  pile  itself 
up  like  a  mountain!    Then  let  us  go  into  our  own 
heart.    Firmly  examine  the  range  of  our  own  sinful- 
nese.   Kote  the  extent  of  our  corruption.  Mark 


5«      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

how  the  rottenness  infests  some  of  our  presumably 
finest  frmt.    Then  exercise  the  imagination  u,K>n 
similar  maladies  in  the  lives  of  others;  and  then  let 
the  burdened  imagination  roam  scout-like  around 
the  world.    Again,  I  say,  let  the  hideousness  ao- 
cmnuhue  pile  upon  pile!    What  then  ?    God's  love 
IS  bigger  still !    Xav,  God's  Book  declares  that  hu- 
man sin,  amazing  and  gigamie  as  it  is,  vet,  when 
compared  with  God's  love  it  is  as  a  .toi.e  dropped 
m  the  immeasurable  seal    -Where  sin  abounds 
grace  doth  much  more  abound."    And  that  God  loves 
thee  and  me  I    Yes,  bring  out  the  big  things:  His 
ove  is  b.gger,  even  as  the  Himalayas  tower  above 
the  rolling  hills  on  the  plain.    Here  is  a  big  thing 
in  Itself   hnman  hatred.    Bo  we  know  anvthing 
deeper  than  malicious  hatred  ?    The  hatred  "of  an 
lago,  or  of  a  Pharisee  for  the  Christ?    Thiuk  of 
the  hate  which  at  this  very  hour,  in  all  this  laiul  of 
ours,  18  pursuing  its  dark,  subterranean  work,  de- 
vising ministries  of  mischief,  plotting  bloody  trage- 
dies of  revenge,  while  in  the  open  day  it  wears  the 
garb  of  a  gracious  friend  and  an  angel  of  light  A 
deep  thing!     Ay,  deep  indeed.     Do  we  know  a 
deeper?    Only  one,  the  love  of  God! 

"O  love  of  God,  how  deep  and  proat! 
Far  deeper  than  man's  deepest  hate, 
Self-fod,  self-kindlcd,  like  the  light 
Changeless,  eternal,  infinite." 

His  love  is  the  biggest  of  aU  big  things.    And  that 
trod  loves  thee  and  *ue. 


THE  LOVE  OP  GOD  58 

• 

And,  thirdly,  we  are  taught  to  think  that  the  love 
of  God  is  the  most  personal,  the  moat  individual 
thing  in  the  universe.    Our  God  loves  everybody  as 
though  each  one  were  everybody  and  there  were  no 
one  else  to  share  it.    God's  love  is  not  a  vague, 
diffused  sentiment,  like  a  senseless,  enveloping  air, 
enclosing  us  all  in  an  undisceriiing  embrace.  God's 
love  is  a  conscious,  intelligent,  purposeful  relation- 
ship, not  concerned  with  a  human  abstraction  called 
the  world,  but  with  individual  men  and  women.  If 
I  may  reverently  say  it,  the  word  "  masses  "  could 
never  be  in  the  Divine  vocabulary;  not  "  masses,"  but 
"children,"  not  "race,"  hut  "family,"  not  "my 
world,"  but  "my  child."    That  is  the  superlative 
wonder  in  the  altogetiicr  wonderful  evangel  of  grnce— 
that  the  Divine  love  can  conccntrute  on  everybody, 
as  though,  I  say,  each  one  were  everybody,  and 
there  was  only  one  child  in  the  Father's  house.  And 
e-  it  was  altogether  fitting,  because  altogether  true, 
that  the  Aiwstle  Paul  dared  to  appropriate  the 
evangel  to  his  own  heart  and  life,  and  to  sing  with 
blessed  triumph,  "  He  loved  me,  and  gave  Himself 
for  me!  "    And  you  and  I  can  sing  it;  and  you  and 
I  ought  to  sing  it.    "  He  loved  me,  and  gave  Himself 
for  me!"    And  we  ought  to  teach  our  children  to 
smg  it,  and  the  children  of  the  stranger,  and  prodigal 
men  and  women  who  are  far  out  of  the  way.    "  He 
loved  me,  and  gave  Himself  for  me."    For  it  is  a 
great  moment,  a  solemn  moment,  greater  and  more 
solemn  than  the  day  of  birth,  or  the  day  of  marriage, 


«4      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

or  the  day  of  death-greater  and  more  solemn  than 
all,  when  the  soul  becomes  aware  and  assured  of  the 
love  of  Qod,  and  sings  as  she  goes,  "  He  loved  me, 
and  gave  Himself  for  me."   Yes,  God's  love  is  the 
most  personal,  the  most  individual  thing  in  the  world 
hungrily  seeking  out  persons  to  laden  them  with 
«acred  treasure,  hungrily  seeking  out  you  to  bring 
the  sacred  treasure  to  jou.   God's  love  is  personal,  far 
more  personal  than  your  love  for  your  child,  even 
though  you  have  only  one ;  and  God  loves  you  and  me. 

And  I  turn  to  the  Book  again,  and  I  am  taught 
hat  the  love  of  God  is  the  most  sacrificial  thing  in 
the  universe.  Again  let  the  eyes  look  round  in 
quest  of  the  finest  human  love  engaged  in  holy 
saenface.  Think  of  a  mother  and  her  frail  and 
fragile  child.  Think  of  a  wife  pouring  out  sacri- 
hcial  love  upon  a  dissolute  husband,  or  a  husband 

upon  his  dissolute  wife. 
Ihink  of  fatherhood  searching  highways  and  byways 
lor  a  prodigal  son,  or  a  son  scouring  the  dreary  hills 
for  a  prodigal  father.    Think  of  miners  risking  life 
in  sacrificial  service.    Think  of  all  the  radiant  in- 
stances of  glorious  chivalry  which  so  often  shine 
upon  our  common  life.    Think  of  them!  Exalt 
them  I    And  then  think  that  we  are  taught  that  in 
comparison  with  the  sacrificial  love  of  God  these  are 
only  famt  and  dim.    The  very  love  we  have  is  bor- 
rowed fire,  a  live  coal  from  the  altar-fires  of  God. 
And  our  love,  beautiful  as  it  is,  altogether  gracious 
and  glorious  as  it  is,  surpassingly  precious  as  it  is. 


THE  LOVE  OF  GOD  55 

ia  only  as  the  genial  fire  on  the  hearthstone  com- 
pared with  the  volmninous  and  overwhelming  splen- 
dour  of  the  blazing  sun.  He  is  "the  Father  of 
all  mercies,  and  the  Gwl  of  all  comfort/'  living  in 
love,  living  to  love,  delighting  in  sacrifice,  with- 
holding nothing  from  His  children,  "for  He  that 
spared  not  His  only  Son,  but  freely  offered  Him 
for  us  all,  how  shall  He  not  with  Him  freely  give 
us  aU  things?" 

And,  lastly,  we  are  taught  to  think  of  the  love  of 
God  as  the  holiest  thing  in  the  universe.  God's 

love  is  inconceivably  pure,  so  pure  that  the  newly- 
fallen  snow  offers  but  a  dim  and  sullied  emblem  of 
its  glory.    And  just  because  God's  love  is  holy  it 
aspires  after  holy  ends.    It  is  hungry  for  the  loved 
ones  to  be  holy  too.    It  thinks  less  of  pain  than  it 
does  of  sin.    And,  therefore,  it  may  resort  to  pain 
to  get  rid  of  sin.    Holy  love  is  not  a^d  of  dis- 
cipline, not  afraid  to  wound  if  it  may  the  more 
effectually  heal.    Holy  love  prefers  to  reprove  rather 
than  to  neglect,  to  make  the  soul  suffer  rather  than 
permit  it  to  die.    It  is  only  when  love  loses  its  fires 
that  its  attentions  become  indifferent.    The  love  of 
God  abides,  and  while  a  single  stain  defiles  His 
child  the  gracious  crusade  of  holiness  wiU  persist. 
Just  because  God's  love  is  holy  His  loved  ones  wiU 
one  day  stand  by  "the  sea  of  glass,"  "clothed  in 
white  robes,  and  palms  in  their  hands,"  having 
gotten  the  victory  over  death  and  sin.    And  this 
holy  God  loves  thee  and  me. 


W      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

So  lift  up  jour  hearts,  the  Lord  loves  yon  '  This 
ove  of  God,  the  most  real  thing  in  the  universe,  and 
the  biggest,  and  the  most  personal,  and  the  most 
sacrifieial,  and  the  most  holy,  rests  upon  you.  Ke- 
spondtoitl   EejoiceinitI   Live  and  die  in  it 

"O  love  that  will  not  let  me  go, 
I  rest  my  weary  goal  on  Thee; 
I  ?rive  Thee  back  the  life  I  owe, 
That  in  Thine  ocean  depths  its  flow 
May  ricber,  fuller  bel  " 


IV 

THE  MAGNETISM  OF  THE  UPLIFTED 
LORD 

"  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up  from  the  earth,  ^ 
Me."— John  xii.  32. 

The  context  gives  us  the  needful  fflumination  to 
see  our  waj.    "Now  there  were  certain  Greeks 

among  those  that  ivent  up  to  worship  at  the  feast- 
these  therefore  came  to  Philip  .  .  .  and  asked  him, 
saying.  Sir,  we  would  see  Jesus."    The  personality 
of  Jesus  was  already  becoming  attractive,  the  magnet 
was  beginning  to  draw,  the  sons  and  daughters  were 
coming  from  afar!   But  why  were  these  Greeks 
drawn  unto  Him?   Perhaps  it  was  only  curiosity, 
which  nevertheless  is  often  the  mother  of  wonder 
and  awe,  and  the  minister  of  deathless  devotion. 
Or,  perhaps  it  was  heart-hunger,  the  pangs  of  un- 
satisfied  craving,  an  urrest  which  philosophy  was 
imable  to  soothe,  a  vastness  of  desire  for  which 
el^uence,  and  music,  and  art  had  no  bread. 

Sir  we  would  see  Jesus! »  " PhUip  eometh  and 
telleth  Andrew:  Andrew  cometK  and  PhUip,  and 
they  tell  Jesus."  And  what  will  Jesus  say  when 
this  first  little  group  of  enquirers  from  the  outer 
world  are  at  His  door  ?  "  And  Jesus  said.  The  hour 
t»  come,  that  the  Son  of  Man  should  be  glorified!  " 

m 


«8      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

^re  i.  the  beginning  of  the  glory  He  seeks,  the 
drawing  of  aD  men  unto  Him.  Here  is  the  little 
Und  of  advance  scouts  which  precede  a  host  which 
no  man  can  number.  But  this  little  company  is 
only  hke  a  small  handful  of  precocious  blades  of 
corn  upon  an  otherwise  barren  field.  They  are 
a^ost  before  their  time.  Before  the  entire^Sl 
be  covered  wUh  the  promising  verdure  there 

must  be  a  winter,  and  in  the  secret  virtue  of  that 

±irst  a  winter,  and  then,  not  a  few  straggling  blades 
but  an  „„eounted  numberl   Even  n^f  thL  t  a' 
httle  movement,  some  faint  stirring  of  aspiring  life 
but  wa.t  until  winter  has  added  itTmystic  ministi^; 

vast  army.    Even  now  Jesus  draws  men.    But  wait 

"If  it  ;  It'  "  '^-^  ^ 

11  It  die,  It  bnngeth  forth  much  fruit."    "I  if  t 

be  lifted  up,  will  draw  aU  men  unto  He."  '  The 

endency  of  this  little  handful  of  Gi^  shaU  bl 

come  the  drift  of  the  race. 
And  so  the  magnet  is  to  be  the  Lord  Jesus  in  the 

1,  If  I  be  lifted  up."    -  As  Moses  lifted  ud  thp 

Man  be  lifted  up.»   No  one  can  really  feel  the 

possessed  by  the  conviction  of  the  sinlessness  of 
Jesus,  and  realising  something  of  the  vast  range  of 
consciousness  in  which  His  spirit  moved;  His^ 


THE  UPLIFTED  LOUD  00 

of  the  abaolate  weaeu  of  Himself  and  God-  His 
unwavering  sense  of  the  voluntariness  of  His  sup^ 
render  to  the  powers  of  men  and  the  pains  of  earth, 
No  man  taketh  it  from  Me";  His  expressed  con- 

sciousness,  that,  by  the  raising  of  the  eyes,  He  could 
call  to  His  aid  legions  of  attendant  forces  which 
would  make  Him  invincible;  His  calm  assurance 
tbat    aU  thmgs  had  been  given  into  His  hands  " 
His  submission  to  the  cross  in  that  assurance;  all 
these  remove  His  death  from  the  ranks  of  common 
martyrdom,  and  place  Him  in  an  awful  and  dorious 
isolation.    His  martyr  Stephen  was  fowed  into 
death:  Jesus  walked  into  it.    From  the  very  be- 
ginning His  steps  were  set  towards  it.    «  He  set  His 
face  steadfastly  to  go,"  and  with  an  irresistible 
stride  He  paced  forward  to  the  self-chosen  consumma- 
tion of  sacrifice.    He  descended  the  entire  slope  of 
sacrifice,  from  grade  to  grade,  until  He  touched 
death,  and  destroyed  the  power  of  death,  untU  He 
tore  out  death's  sting,  which  is  sin,  and  in  one  su- 
preme victory  triumphed  over  both. 

AW,  our  Lord  declares  that  it  is  in  the  energy  of 
that  transcendent  sacrifice  that  His  p'^onal  mag- 
netism is  to  be  found.  I  U  energy'  of  His  love  as 
displayed  in  His  life,  compared  with  the  energy  of 
His  love  as  displayed  in  His  death,  is  as  dispersed 
sunshine  compared  with  focussed  sunshine,  sunshine 
concentrated  in  a  bumiuf^  heat.  And  it  is  this 
tucussed  sacrificial  energy  of  His  death,  "The  last 
pregnant  syllable  of  God's  great  utterance  of  love," 


»      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

wlach  our  Wd  M.r^  i.  ,o  be  tfce  rf 

drew  .he  ,„  ii,„  , 

"•^    And  we  recall  tl,e  her,.i .  M,  -r  t  W 

king-  ».d  the  .ffeetic^te  «d.m«tiu„  o  7^  , 

■Me.     The  energies  of  that  seIf-»ac,  iii,  „„R,.,i  J 
con»mu.e  the  mightiest  magnet  ^o.:^:^'  ^' 
The^  «  nothing        th«  „^ 


THE  UPLIFTED  UOmO  61 

the  indiri<lii«l  testimmj.  Am  a  matter  of  common 
experieiK  p,  what  draws  like  the  uplifted  Loidf 
Y..n  must  have  notice.',  ag  J  again  and  again  have 

notice.!,  how  a  silent  aw.  steals  over  an  assembly, 
when  the  p roa(>h.  ,  .•..„, ,  ,.sK  approaches  the  cross,' 
and  k  ids  ihr  eout.  nlati.,.,  Im;  >  -ondous  sac- 
rifice. Jfh.  iim  ,atf-r.s  sk.tical,  political, 
le^hetical,  ^u-ieationu!  the  4<Hi  '  relaxed,  and 
we  ean  assume  ,-n  attitude  of  ^hment.    It  is 

theapHftedlx.  Jwhotig      -  ^-s,  ai  makes 

ns  i>  Mtal'v  nru:  ^,>ir  !}y  tense,  „.d  drav  .  us  to 
^"'^  ^'  •  ^'  rir  nce  to  tell  us  of  His 

wond.  !  Av.  -rs  '  pi  ,  „s  this,  that  nothing 
so  ove.    ,iie>    K  :uu\  the  deadly  in  man  as 

"r'^n  preae  tiiig  o  .J  a.s  Christ  and  Him  crucified." 
It  breaks  up  the  fr  ?en  indiflFerence  of  men.  It 
»ak<-8  t\  gra.  io!  -  uneasy.  It  disturbs  them 
WI  1  prom..ing  di.^  cud.  It  awakes  moral  pains 
hv  restoring  tl  A  >  irculation,  and  it  aoeom- 
pli.  hes  return  hrough  the  panjrg  of  hell  and 

rn.     of  But  the  sacrificial  Lord  does 

'  *hai  u.-,])i  initial  unrest.  He  converts  the 
Hi  ..  «  njrs  into  definite  spiritual  movement. 
tic  li.  niy  1  ^aks  up  inertia,  He  dete  • .  .nes  direc- 
uo  e  «^  H  men,  and  He  also  draws  them. 
IT  ira  -8  mt  owards  Himself,  and  they  move  to 
a  elose  md  persona^  communion.  There  is  nothing 
-  Ise  which  works  in  that  way,  and  to  such  swift  and 
personal  devotion.  You  may  proelaim  the  Lord  as 
a  great  ethical  teacher,  but  the  ethics  may  ganerate 


««      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

Z  TT  Ten  Commandments 

pamted  upon  the  cold  surface  of  the  walls  of  a  chu  eh 
You  may  j^rooUua  Him  as  a  young  refo™  bt 

tn  outT'fh  "  "  lift 
men  out  of  their  sms.    Jesus,  the  young  pronhet 

may  draw  cheers ;  the  uplifted  Lord  drL  men  The 

with  cords  01  a  man,  with  bands  of  love."  ' 

"Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea. 

And  that  Thou  bid'st  me  come  to  Th«, 
O  LuBb  of  God,  I  eomel " 

of  history  as  to  what  is  the  power  which  has  m«» 
o«Bp.c«o,«ly  swayed  great  „as«s  of  m.„kW 

rlll^' '?«°"'  Wies  have  been  stirred 
nto  newness  and  irodaww  of  life,  it  has  been  bv 
h.  ene,«.es  of  the  upBfted  Uri.'  L^  JZl^, 
the  range  of  vision  to  onr  own  eountry,  »ndZZ 
own  count.7  within  the  limited  ci,2  rf  tto  Z 
hmd^  and  fifty  years.  I  am  not  aw«e  ^ 
™*  "PWVJ  of  the  national  sentimenT  rhii  Z 

i»-P«UUo„  in  it.  n^^^^Z. 


THE  UPLIFTED  LOBD  08 

the  eighteenth  century— so  superficial,  so  cruel,  so 
soddened  in  immoral  indifference— began  to  move 
toward  a  cleaner  and  a  sweeter  and  more  enlight- 
ened life,  the  magnet  that  drew  her  was  the  Lamb 
of  God.    The  miner  in  Cornwall  and  Northumbria, 
the  workman  in  the  potteries,  the  shepherd  on  tfie 
northern  moors,  the  poor  cotter  in  Scotland  and  in 
Ireland,  all  felt  the  pull  of  the  magnet,  and  sped 
with  eager  feet  toward  their  Lord.    Let  any  one  turn 
to  John  Wesley's  journal,  and  read  the  inner  story  * 
of  that  wonderful  revival,  and  he  wiU  be  in  no  doubt 
as  to  what  was  the  quickening  ministry  that  created 
It.    From  shepherd  and  fisherman  and  miner  alike 
this  was  the  common  cry,  "O  Lamb  of  God,  I 
come !  "    And  it  has  not  been  otherwise  in  a  nei^ 
day.    1^0  one  has  ever  moved  the  multitudes  except 
the  men  with  the  magnet  of  the  uplifted  Lord, 
^ay,  It  18  passing  strange  that  only  the  men  with 
the  uplifted  Lord  seem  to  seek  the  multitudes  at  aU  I 
Have  you  known  of  any  Moody,  with  similar  passion 
and  similar  aim,  but  with  another  magnet  than  this 
of  the  crucified  God,  who  has  moved  the  masses  of 
our  countrymen,  and  drawn  them  int  .  the  holy  paths 
of  higher  life  and  service?    If  such  there  be,  I 
ahould  like  to  know  of  them,  for  as  yet  they  have 
never  passed  across  my  sight.    I^o,  when  the  multi- 
tudes  are  swayed,  they  are  swayed  by  the  Lamb.  I 
am  not  now  asking  you  to  account  for  it,  or  to 
accept  any  theory  concerning  it,  but  to  accept  the 
plam  testimony  of  experience,  that  some  oarvdloiu 


«*      THE  THANSFIGCHED  OTORCH 

power  to  gnp  ui  draw  the  multitudca.   With  all 

S-'an^T  t  '~  «W" 
mm'strj.  abundant  proof-that  there  ia 

»o^ng  .„  this  world  which  ao  imprej  Jl'"' J 

<..CerX"l°^s;it^f  "r""  r 

«U  it e     r^r^        -  --^r  .^ese  wo-.a 

Thin 'irM    "^"^  o-t"  Me." 

ihen     the  energies  ,f  this  sacrificed  Christ  we  .re 

to  find  the  dynamic  of  reden,ption,  b!  Z 

It  will  be  liLZri    f"™  nearer  to  one  another. 

^  ™n  centre  atr"  '"^^         ">  « 

,  arew  near  to  one  another.    The  oentnU  Magnet  will 

3het^Tf^™™  ^''<'  »f 


THE  DPUPTED  LORD  65 

by  gome  common  energy  of  mutual  attraction,  we 
«em  to  be  possessed  by  an  energy  which  occasions 
mutual  repnismn.    If  by  some  happy  chance  we 
hnd  ourselves  on  a  common  platform,  we  either  half 
apolog.se  for  our  relationship,  or  we  indulge  in  out- 
bursts of  mutual  eulogy  and  surprise  whiTh  reveal 
Jiow  infrequent  and  unreal  is  oT.r  communion.  If 
It  be  true  that  by  drawing  near  the  centre  we  as- 
suredly draw  near  to  one  another,  what  has  happened 
to  explam  our  position?    This  has  happened:  we 
have  forgotten  the  Centre,  or  we  have  made  centres 
of  our  own     We  have  made  a  theory  a  centre,  a 
lonn  of  ecclesiastical  govermnent  a  centre,  and  be- 
cause al  men  will  not  travel  toward  our  self-made 
centre,  thr..  ks  antagonism  and  repulsion,  and  mutual 
^ing  of  stones,  and  the  religion  which  was  pur- 

the  embittered  agent  of  division  and  strife.    But  I 

~  T'  "^"^"T  ""^  denominations, 
men  get  heir  eyes  clearly  fixed  upon  the  face  of  the 
acrifieial  Lord,  upon  the  uplifted  Christ  of  G^' 
they  do  most  assuredly  move  and  draw  together,  and 
the  e  ^on,  even  at  the  present  time,  are  living  and 
working  an  co-operative  service  and  in  brotherly  con- 
oo«l  and  peace.  It  is  the  man  who  strikes  his  spear 
sei?-ctr  ^^^^  self-chosen 'and 

h  frntl  beyond 
his  fonnal  creed,  his  rigid  polity,  and  his  fl^hly 

succession  it  is  thia  rv.o».     u  ,  "camj 

who  IS  the  foe  o.  human  feUowihip  and  Ohristiai; 


66      TlJE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

intimac:.,  and  who  retards  the  gracious  oneness  for 
which  o:ir  Saviour  lived  and  bled  and  died.  When 
we  ^^t  our  eager  eyes  fixed  upon  the  Lord,  the  Lord 
uplifted  m  superlative  sacrifice,  when  we  pierce 
through  every  secondary  medium,  and  contemplate 
the  primary  glory,  we  shaU  move  down  the  different 

Z  lU.T  ^^"'^  relationships-Episcopalian, 
Methodist,  Congregationalist,  Presbyterian,  Friend- 
and  we  shall  emerge  in  the  fair  light  of  the  oneness 
of  a  common  love,  and  in  the  full,  sweet  harmony 
of  a  «>mmon  confession,  -My  Lord  and  my  God!" 
1,  If  I  be  lifted  up,  will  draw  all  men  unto  Me  " 
I,  If  I  be  lifted  up  I  »    There  is  energy  there  to 
redeem  us  all.    There  is  energy  there  to  lift  us 
out  of  the  cold  prison-house  of  guilt,  out  of  the  cruel 
tyranny  of  sin,  out  of  the  bitterness  of  death.    "  / 
will  drawl"    m  one  else  can  do  it.  and 
this  m  contrast  to  "  the  prince  of  this  world  "  in 
the  previous  verse.    These  are  the  combatants :  « the 
prince  of  this  World  "  versus  the  uplifted  Lord  f  I 
place  my  reliance  on  the  Lord!    "Whosoever  be- 
Wh  on  Him  shall  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting 

"  Drawn  to  the  Cross  which  Thou  hart  UeMml 
With  healing  gifts  for  souls  distrewed, 
To  find  la  Thee  my  life,  my  rest, 
Cbrist  erudlM,  I  conwl  ** 

"To  be  what  Thou  wouldst  have  me  be. 
Accepted,  sanctified  in  Thee, 
Hirough  what  Thy  grace  shall  work  is  mt, 
CaWit  erudfied,  I  omnel  " 


SON  AND  HEIR! 

"Thou  art  no  longer  a  bondservant,  but  a  son:  and  if  a 
Km,  then  an  heir  throo^  Ck>d."— Gai*  iv.  7. 

^  "Son"  and  "heir"!    So  that  is  how  our  posi- 
tion and  prospects  are  described !    "  Son  and  heir !  " 
Would  the  world  recognise  our  status  when  it  looks 
upon  US  ?    I  do  not  refer  to  such  seasons  as  the  time 
of  a  great  convention,  when  our  festive  feelings  are 
excited,  and  we  move  about  with  a  certain  gaiety  of 
demeanour,  and  with  buoyant  and  exuberant  strides. 
In  our  festive  moments  we  may  have  the  royal  car- 
riage of  sons  and  heirs,  and  we  may  be  distinguished 
from  the  depressed  and  heavy-footed  multitude.  But 
how  do  we  appear  when  the  festivities  are  over,  when 
the  trumpet  is  silent,  and  the  shouting  dies,  and  the 
banners  and  the  bunting  are  taken  down,  and  the 
holiday  attire  is  put  away  in  the  drawer,  and  we  are 
back  again  on  the  old  grey  road,  in  the  dusty  work- 
shop, in  the  monotonous  office,  behind  the  irritating 
counter,  in  tlie  familiar  drudgery  of  the  humming 
Bcshool?   How,  then,  when  the  world  looks  in  upon 
118,  and  finds  us  in  our  everyday  clothes,  and  when  wo 
are  moving  not  to  the  martial  music  of  a  band, 
but  to  the  cUck  of  a  remorseless  machine,  do  we 
appear  like  sons  and  heirs  of  God  Almi^tyt  Axe 
there  any  signs  about  us  of  aristooratie  breeding? 

9t 


% 


88      THE  TRANSFIGCBED  CHURCH 

Do  wo  betray  the  presence  of  royal  blood  ?  I.  there 
«me  ung  demeanour,  snbtle,  impresdve,  in- 

fl«em..I   «,^ething  whieh  onr  clothes  can  ^eve" 
h.<ie,  and  ^hid.  .bide,  throngh  the  glea,ni„g  h™ 
rffetm  y,  and  throng  the  long,  grey  stretchy  the 
commonplace  yeara  I   If  „„  are  of  true  blood,  "  blue 
Wood,"  of  royal  linear,  <.h.„  .  .  .  ^„t'tJZ 
of  man  but  of  0«1,"  there  must  be  son.ething  .C 
»»  omphaue  a>Kl  unique,  which  will  fill  the^^^M 
mth  wonder    If  we  are  "sons  and  heirs,"  ,he  un 
W»v..g  world  will  remark  upon  the  qual  ty  o  o  "r 
h^»g,  and  upon       variety  and  fulness' of  „„ 
wea  th.    Men  will  whiaper  to  one  another  about  our 
most  palpable  acquisitions,  and  onr  moat  ev  de! 
emancpafon    They  will  speak  in  this  ^..:^iL 

wkh^l,   f  "^ving  about  their  wa« 

with  the  fcvensh  and  restless  timidity  of  a  slav^ 

of  fte  owner  of  the  eatatel »   Is  this  the  judg,nent 
W"'' r  ."«"»>»   I>o  we  reveal  Z 

lo  occasion  notice  or  remark?   Are  we 
BO  at  one  with  the  colour  and  movement  of  tt  col 
mon  crowd?    Afrni'n  T  a=v  • 

wu  Again  1  ask— IS  there  anythimr  kinirlv 
or  queenly  about  our  very  walk  and  L  ^  *T*^'{ 
If  we  liRv«  •  ^conversation  ? 

±1  we  Have  the  consciousness  of  sons  and  heirs  th^t 
consciouB^  will  get  into  our  faces,  on  To  our 

win  be  royal  significance  in  aU  the  issues  of  our 
life.   But  perhaps  the  oonseiouBness  is  not  pres^I 


SON  AND  HEIR  69 

and  regnant  in  onr  lives.   Perhaps  we  arc  Chris- 
tians who  have  not  yet  claimed  or  even  recoguised 
our  kingdom.    Perhaps  we  are  moving  about  in 
depression  and  poverty,  and  our  vast  inheritance  lies 
untrodden  and  unexplored.    Perhaps  we  are  hug- 
ging the  title-deeds,  and  we  have  never  realised  the 
unspeakable  value  of  our  land.    Perhaps  we  have 
sat  down  on  the  inside  of  the  gate,  like  a  waiting 
slave,  and  we  are  not  striding  over  the  estate  like  the 
"  son  and  heir."    «  Thou  art  no  longer  a  bondservant 
but  a  son :  and  if  a  son,  then  an  heir  I "   To  some  it 
has  been  said,  in  words  of  awful  disillusionment, 
Thou  kuowest  not  that  thou  art  poor ! "    To  others 
there  may  be  equal  need  of  the  awaking  and  inspir- 
ing evangel,  "  Thou  knowest  not  that  thou  art  rich!  " 
"Lift  up  now  thine  eyes,  and  look  from  the  place 
where  thou  art,  northward,  and  southward,  and  east- 
ward, and  westward :  for  all  the  land  which  thou  seest 
to  thee  will  I  give  it.  .  .  .  Arise,  walk  through  the 
land  m  the  length  of  it  and  in  the  breadth  of  it:  for 
I  will  give  it  unto  thee."    Thou  art  the  son  and  heir. 

I  wonder  where  our  impoverishment  begins.  Per- 
haps it  begins  in  an  imperfect  sense  of  sonship,  which 
leads  to  an  imperfect  realisation  of  our  inheritance, 
l^t  the  one  be  starved,  and  the  other  will  be  im- 
poverished. Exalt  the  one,  and  you  will  enlarge  the 
other.  What  think  you,  then,  of  sonship!  What 
are  its  primary  characteristics?  Can  we  open  this 
casket,  and  inspect  a  few  of  its  shining  jeweb! 
What  shaU  we  mention  as  the  first  of  the  ingredients 


10      THE  TRAN8PIGUHED  CHURCH 

h^njuYevcrencef  That  a.y  .pp^arti:  . 
^  JTO  element,  but  it «  the  grouadwork  of  .II  ,he 

of  .he  life  the.  ..t  he    "ue  et M  Zl^Z 

«ntn,ubIod,  where  the  wi,,,,  ' 

the  soul  ,s  prostrate  in  ceaseless  adorati™.  Inte 

ftrid  Xh  r"P'  he  covered  hi, 

with  the  seraphL  in  tt^we  .»  •  """^  """"P 
the  mtV  „f  •  • ,  we  ore  m  poMwsion  of 
"  e  pair  of  wmgs  with  which  to  fly  I   Never  tc« 

popnl«'  vocabulary  reels  with  perspiration  -  We 

qm^sut  lr?r  ™^  B»' I  am  not 

quite  sure  whether  we  oould  dum  kiurfUp  with  the 

^raphim  iu  respect  to  the  other  wing..  ^ 
are  gravely  lacking  i„  ehose  folded  Zg> 

token  reverence,  awe,  silence,  and  reserve  ZJ^ 
»ce  never  hinder  service-i;  enler  la  perf^: 

Service  wh^^is  devoid    ,  " 

i~  <^w««te.  Iflifelia.nokolyofholies, 


SON  AND  HEIR  71 

then  the  whole  of  life  is  apt  to  become  a  mere  shop, 
the  sphere  of  common  barter,  or  an  entertainment 
house,  the  domain  of  flippant  pleasures,  or  an  open 

refreshment  room,  the  place  of  a  carnal  feast.  And 
so  I  want  to  plead  that  our  sonship  be  erriched  by 
the  cultivation  of  a  deeper  and  more  constant  rever- 
ence.   In  this  matter  I  am  afraid  that  we  Protestants 
aw  inferior  to  our  brethren  in  the  Roman  Catholic 
communion.    I  think  their  religious  life  is  more 
deeply  marked  bjr  reverence  and  awe.   It  is  fre- 
quently suggested  that  such  reverence  is  only  a 
matter  of  posture,  an  empty  formality,  a  marrowless 
rite.    I  will  not  have  the  interpretation.    I  am  con- 
sidering a  true  and  representative  Roman  Catholic, 
and  I  say  that  he  has  much  to  teach  us  in  the  matter 
of  worthy  and  fruitful  reverence.    Go  into  a  Roman 
Catholic  church.   Everywhere  there  are  suggestions 
of  the  august  and  unspeakable.   Every  symbol  is  an 
entrance  gate  into  a  vista  which  awes  the  soul  into 
adoration.    Tokens  and  memorials  of  the  Crucified 
are  everywhere.    The  cross  is  ubiquitous.    The  wor- 
shipper bows  low  with  an  awed  and  silent  wonder 
The  soul  is  reverently  silent,  and  the  body  fashions 
iteelf  to  the  mood  of  the  spirit.    But  it  is  more  than 
that :  the  posture  of  the  body  confirms  the  mood  of  the 
spirit.    Perhaps  we  are  not  sufficiently  attentive  to 
these  helpmeets  to  spiritual  disposition.   A  bodily 
attitude  does  more  than  express  a  sentiment,  it  helps 
to  create  and  fctcr  it.    It  is  even  so  with  a  common 
courtesy;  the  raising  of  the  hat  enriches  the  regards 


n      THE  TBANSFIGDREl)  CHVRCS 

'^J^P'l^t,        "  "'™'^"<»  to  the  High- 

e.t  A  bodily  ,tti,„de  will  miuister  to  tl,e  posture 
of  the  ,ouL  Even  .„  Uri  did  not  dcpWe  the 
bo,hly  ht.|,,„,ort,  and  when  He  oommnned  with  Hii 
Fa.  or  He  ■■  fell  on  Hi,  knee."  I  n^lT  'li^^ 
...ore  car.,  ho  g,„,,  ,„  ,hi,.  The.*  i,  a  way  of  kaeol- 
^wh-ch.  i,»e,f  .he  beginning  of  jZ 

more  of  the  bondservant  than  the  .on,  mo,-o  of  the 
cIo,.ter  than  the  home?  Ah!  hut  I  would  wiah  to 
hr,ug  something  of  the  oIoi.ter  into  the  homo  and 
bo  h„.„„  itself  will  be  lightened  «rf  tratXu^i 
l^t  nobo,ly  think  that  tr„e  .«ve«nee  nnU^  fo, 
gloom  and  „„ipidity,  „d  that  it  robs  life  of  ite 
bnc^anoy  and  fre,hnes,.  Honry  Brummond  on™ 
went  ont  alone  into  the  high  Alps.  He  was  tho™^ 

t:stirr:^ry't"T'™'  " 

^<«»>cu  uim  on  every  side.    He  was  awed  bv  th^ir 

at/  rjan    a^  '        st^"  ""^ 
•  1      ,         'oufciiieri    lue  succession  was  nn* 

a-dent.I,  it  was  tho  fruit  of  a  hidden  roT  ^ 
man  who  begins  with  the  «.verem  recognition 
Ae  lolmeaa  and  majesty  of  God  will  Z  into  a 

^.TJ^^^r  "■-^--^^ 

po^e.s  will  have  free  oonne  to  be  glorified  Our 
Lori's  Prayer  teaehes  u.  that  before  4  canls  fn^o 
the  graoons  liberty  of  forgivenesa  and  cono^«t 
rn^beg  „  wi,h  the  awod  and  ,.ve«n,  ^T^Z 
Father,  which  art  in  heaven,  WW«J  6.  T^  n,,^' 


SON  AND  HEm  78 

In  the  heart  of  a  laughing,  exuberant,  and  healthy 
senahip  there  ia  a  quiet  and  retired  retreat  where  the 
incense  of  adoration  riiea  both  ni^t  and  day. 

Now  look  again  into  the  casket  of  thia  wealthy 

and  comprehensive  sonsbip.    Here  ia  the  aeoond 
jewel  which  I  would  like  to  display  to  you.  Surely 
one  of  the  primary  elements  in  sonsbip  is  the  priv- 
ilege of  intimate  communion  with  the  Father.  I 
wag  one  of  a  party  who  visited  Cbatsi^ortb  the  other 
day.    We  were  aUowed  the  privilege  of  going 
throngh  the  noble  houae.   Bat  our  liberties  were 
severely  restricted.  We  were  allowed  to  pass  rapidly 
through  what  is  caUed  "the  show  rooms,"  but  we 
were  rigidly  excluded  from  the  "  living  room."  In 
many  places  there  were  red  cords  stretched  across 
inviting  passages,  and  our  progress  was  barred.  If 
I  had  bera  a  son  of  the  house  I  could  have  passed 
into  the  Hving  porans,  the  pkce  of  aweet  and  sacred 
fellowships,  the  home  of  genial  interooorae,  where 
secrets  pass  from  lip  to  lip,  and  onqxiken  senti- 
ments radiate  from  heart  to  hoart.    "  Thou  art  no 
longer  a  bondservant,  but  a    -.n!"    Then  I,  too, 
am  privileged  to  enjoy  the  fellowships  of  the  living 
roonis,  and  no  barrier  blocks  my  way  to  the  secret 
P«ce.    As  a  son  I,  too,  am  permitted  to  enter  into 
a  gracioua  intimacy  with  my  God.    I  can  indulge 
m  confidences  and  share  in  the  mutnal  secrets  of  the 
human  and  the  Divine.   Some  time  ago  I  heard  an 
admmng  father  give  a  very  rich  and  happy  testi- 
mony to  the  relationship  which  existed  between  him 


1*      THE  TIUNSnGlJHED  CHURCH 

"'y ""i  my 

wh.ch  omb«Ue,  the  n.H«t  c-onforJcl  ,.p„'  ^ 
..d  which  the  Almighty  ™od  t.  dc«riU,  Ui,  X' 

Inend    i   And  «  ,t  „„,  ,h,.  wonderful  herit^  il 

onger  do  I  call  v„u  son-.,,,,  but  fric.l.,  for  ^ 
4»g»  that  I  have  heard  frora  If.v  Fath.r  I  have 
m«Je  taown  uito  you."    Such  is  the  rare  and  »eeret 
".t™«gr  to  whieh  «,  .re  i„ited  by  „„r  Lori 
Have  we  ,ei»d  »po.  thi.  privilege  ot  JLufi  it 
«  w.,h  the  «ndisorimi„at«l  c»wd  ii  .he  ''ahow 
'oom,      or  are  we  abiding  with  the  Father  in  Z 
W  roon,  J    Are  we  enjoying  ,„  ^ 
or  have  we  only  a  kin.l  , ,  „„„i^, 

we  hrten  to  the  whispered  seerets  iron,  ITi,  lips? 

I  We  heL  a  :.^LZ^tPLT:^ftX 
opens  his  etters-nay,  even  with  the  nnopened  let- 

fte  Father  "  Has  not  the  biography  „f  Mr.  Glad- 
Tf  •«        K  too,  had  a  similar  .1 

l.ord?    He  had  "a  word  with  hie  Father"  before 

hei^etospeakintheHon^ofCemmona. 

to«d  uito  the  aee^t  place  hefore  he  .pp::i«i  to  Z 


SON  AND  HEIR  75 

public  eye.  He  consulted  with  the  Almighty  before 
he  fomed  hia  cabinets.  Such  constant  communion 
soon  deepens  into  a  wonderful  intimacy.  The  re- 
stricting reserve  pasaes  out  of  the  life.  The  un- 
necessary shyness  weara  away.  The  aoul  and  the 
Father  are  one. 

And  so  we  may  regard  it  as  a  very  prominent 
characteristic  of  sonship  that  it  is  endowed  with 
large  and  wealthy  lib«  rty.    But  sonship  is  not  only 
distinguished  by  liberty  of  comniuuion  in  the  secret 
place,  bat  by  an  emancipation  from  many  kinds 
of  bondage  and  restriction  with  which  the  world  is 
burdened  and  oppresaed.    Sonship  is  oonspicnoualy 
and  radiantly  free.    The  sons  of  God  ought  to  fas- 
cinate and  win  the  world  by  the  range  and  grandeur 
of  the.    fretnlom.    Where  v.l  r.   ^re  bound  they 
must  reveal  themselves  to  be  fr.       T.  >ur  freedom 
obtrusively  prominent?    Are  v    a    'i;;ig  "in  the 
glorious  liberty  of  the  children  oi  God  "  ?  The  real 
son  is  free  from  the  bondage  of  sin.    His  life  is 
delivered  from  the  haunting  waU  of  sunless  and 
hoiKiless  dejection.    The  real  son  is  frc^  from  the 
tyranny  of  self.    He  is  not  impriso  >.  '  by  a  small, 
exclusive,  all-absorbing,  egoistic,  enslax  iag  self.  He 
has  "  a  heart  at  leisure  from  itself  to  soothe  and 
sympathise.'*    The  real  son  is  free  from    Le  en- 
davement  of  the  crowd.     He   is  not  da  .nted 
by  the  presence  of  the  great  and  threatening 

multitude.   God's  sons  are  fi«e  and  bold  and  rtand 
alone  I 


W      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

"They  are  slaves  who  dare  not  be 
In  the  ric^t  with  two  or  three." 

Sla^  indeed!  "But  now  thou  art  no  longer  a 
bondservant,  but  a  son,"  and  because  a  son  thou  art 
free  to  defy  the  crowd  and  be  alonel  One  with  God 
18  in  the  majo:Hy.  And  the  real  son  is  free  fn>m 
the  fear  of  death.  His  life  moves  on,  not  to  expected 
defeat  but  to  ultimate  triumph.  The  appr^i^ 
sMow  does  not  mark  a  terminus,  but  a  point  of 
transition  mto  the  larger  and  immortal  life.    In  all 

liberty.  Such  is  sonship,  mariced  by  reverence 
distinguished  by  intimacy,  and  glorious  in  its  lib^^.' 
By  our  hves  do  we  placard  this  sonship  before  our 
fe  lows  ?  By  our  very  manner  of  life  does  this  son- 
shop  flame  before  the  world?  Do  we  move  about  like 
rtr-^^  '^«Ji«e  the  Presence  of  the 

Infinite?    Is  every  spot  a  piece  of  holy  ground? 

Are  we  sharing  confidences  with  the  FatLr?  Has 
the  burden  of  the  opp^ssor  been  loosed  from  our 
backs,  and  are  we  standing  erect  in  joyful  freedom? 
Ihen  are  we  sons,  and  sons  indeed  I    "Now  thou 

Z  V^'fl. '  I  Tl "    "  ^'^'^^  of  love 

^  Fa  her  hath  bestowed  upon  us  that  we  should  b. 
called  the  sons  of  God." 

herited  or  disowned.    The  i^'veryTf  ^ur  s'olhlpTs 
accompanied  by  the  restoration  of  our  lost  land 
The  coming  to  God  is  the  regaining  of  our  estate. 
We  are  not  only  sons,  but  heirs.   And  our  erti^ 


SON  AND  HEIR  77 

are  not  aU  beyond  the  river  we  call  death.  That  is 
where  we  make  an  impoverishing  mistake.  We  are 
not  only  heirs  of  «  great  expectations  »  but  of  great 
possessions.    Superlatively  rich  are  our  expectations. 

but  wc  have  more  than  a  competency  by  the  Way. 
Devonshire  is  a  peculiarly  rich  and  fruitful  ooun^ 
but  It  overflows  into  Somersetshire,  and  we  are  fai 
^e  enjoyment  of  some  of  the  glory  before  we  reach 
the  coveted  spot  And  so  it  is  of  heaven  ^nd  ulti- 
mate  gloiy. 

"  There  is  a  land  of  pure  delist, 
Where  saints  immortal  reign. 
Infinite  day  exclude?  the  night. 
And  pleasorei  banish  pain." 

But  the  glory  overflows  I    There  is  something  of  the 
coveted  country  even  in  the  highway  of  time. 

"The  hill  of  Zion  yields 

A  thousand  sacred  sweets, 
B^w  WB  reaeh  the  heavenly  fields 
Or  walk  the  goidea  streets." 

EWancy?    Yes.    But  again  let  me  say  we  have 
a  foretaste  on  the  road.  Do  we  look  like  it  ?  Is  our 
stnde  significant  of  men  who  have  entered  upon  a 
estate  ?   Do  we  ever  compel  the  alien  world  to 

oSl  That  ,s  the  witne«i  we  ought  to  ccanpd,  and 
If  our  eyes  were  open,  and  our  hearts  wen,  active, 
we  should  hear  the  witne«i  on  every  aide.  Look 


»      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

^«rth.  nere  m  an  iahcritancc  for  the  sons  of 
and  .OTdy  ,n  uiierit,nce  vast  enough!  Are 
TO  in  FO«e«ion  of  the  ertate  !  We  may  not  own  a 
square  yard  and  yet  the  earth  may  be  onrs.  Think 
of  Jesua  as  He  moved  about  i„  the  way.  of  QalUee. 
Not  a  square  f«,t  could  He  call  His  own.  But 
^  snowy  heights  in  the  far  north,  those  green 
lulUrfe,  at  We,  those  juicy  vineyards,  those  fair 
Uw^  th«e  bo^  Uns.  that  cool  river,  the  eve. 

He Td""  '••^7*7  ™~  Hia I  In  His  meekness 
He  had  .nhented  the  earth."  A„  we  in  possession 
of  the  estate?  "Having  nothing,"  wo  may  Z 
"possess  all  things  " -  How  ia  it^  ^ 
tbe  n,ght  sky !    Have  we  any  senL  of  aonaU^^  ^ 

™r      J.  ™'"=»Pl«'<'  «>me  spacious 

^J!"  f  -  hills  o 

onr  own  aeM  hbonrhood,  do  we  thrill  in  the  joy  of 

of  our  GmI?  We  are  sons  and  heirs,  md  ril  the 
real  beauty  and  the  glory  of  the  eaAh  bel^^^t 
th^  who  are  the  frienda  ^  «mf^ 

oe  ights?   He  had  found  them  in  other  peoole's 
w*„e,ng,  ,„  the  triumph  of  hi.  feUow-mr  He 
d.«oyered  the  weU  of  unpdluted  joy  in  ^ 


SON  AND  HEm  79 

man's  success.  Have  we  found  it?  It  ^s  to  be 
found  m  our  estate  « With  joy  shall  ye  draw 
water  out  of  the  weUs  of  salvation."  Some  of  these 
wells  are  m  your  brother,  you  must  find  them  in  his 
conquests  and  in  his  rewards.  «AU  things  are 
yours  "  Have  we  realised  our  inheritance  9  Let  us 
lift  the  thought  still  higher.    Let  us  lift  our  heirship 

'"^"^"^"^  We  ar! 

lieirs  of  God  and  joint  heirs  with  Christ !  »  That 

18  wonderful  and  overwhelming  I  We  are  heirs  to 
the  Lords  znhentance;  His  possessions  are  ours;  we 
may  s.t  w:th  Him  in  the  heavenly  places.  We  may 
inhent  His  strength,  His  joy.  His  peace,  Hi.  tri^ 
umph.  We  are  joint  heirs  with  Him  ik  aU  ^ 
spiritual  satisfactions  that  came  to  Him  as  He  dwelt 
m  t^e  ways  of  men.  And  what  did  He  inherit  in 
tiie  Und  of  glory  ?  "  ^or  pen  nor  tongue  can  tell." 
*ye         not  aeen  Bor  ear  heard,  neither  hath  it 

Tff^'u"^  W  <rf  «a„  to  conceive  the  things 
which  God  hath  prepaid  for  thaa  ti»«t  love  Hi^ 
And  we  are  the  joint-heirs  to  it  afl!  mm  we  be- 
gun even  to  entertain  these  gjmt  ndilie.  m  oiff  con. 

«ciousness?  We  are  the  sons  and  heirs;  are^ 
worthy  of  the  namei  Would  the  world  know  it? 
^^«at«r  mto  a  deeper  consecration.  Let  us  seek 
n„r^'.*^^*    ^  *         f"rtl»er  into 


hlTl    T         ™         '*^«t  with  an  exalted  and 
bal  owed  and  ca^Mmt         «  thoae  who  heirs 
tho  promises,  .ad  who  •WBiiww  fctw  inlimtad 

everlasting  life. 


VI 

HIS  MANY  CROWNS 
"On  Hh  hMd  ^  "iMiy  crwni.."-Ite,.  n..  jj. 

nJ-;*  with  m,;»tic  sway!  Such  i,  the  awe-m^ 
spmng,  love^Mtraining  figure  Mailed  in  the  New 
Tcrtamem  Scripture.  Not  oue  of  "the  sceptred 
dead  who  "  rule  our  spirits  frem  thei,  „„„,..  Not 
might  of  a  tender  remini«»uce;  aot  .  yiul  Un- 
pulse  fro,,,  a  dead  personality;  uot  a  slowly  but 
™rely  «<p.r,ng  force,  losiug  iwf  thought 

tatenng  about  au  nnloUted  grave.    No,  a  living 

TurruTe  7^'^  ^""""^  '""'"K^"'.  P-n^- 
ful  rule.    The  New  TestuneM  Christ  i,  ,  vast  and 

gbnous  Per«,n<H  e,  planning  ,„d  «oomplishing  v  J 

and  glorious  ends.   He  dominate,  everything,  Lt2 

some  swelling  wave  dominate,  the  rippL  tht.t^ 

ri^,  ""^      ""^  Matterhorn  dominate. 

«ndfe,  heights  around  her,  but  a,  the  sun  dom- 
•nate,  and  warm,  and  illmnines  ,he  earth. 

gests  tW  .  ^  """"l-Wng  word  sug- 

gest, the^comprehenaivene-  of  the  sovereignty  the 

wealth  of  any  sovereignty  i,  proportioned  to  it.  oom- 

an 


HIS  KANT  CBOWNS  gi 

the  dive^Q,  of  the  element,  which  mo™  beneath  Z 
rule  in  «H>pe«tive  obedienee.   A  monarchy  s  lo 

that  the  Russian  monarchy  o.rH«  the  pooij^rf 
European  cro^s.  The  German  orown^w,  im- 
•uensely  enriched  by  B,™a..k  in  the  unifying  Z 

fJ^^T  '^T  P"^'^  «  brilliant 
lustre  when  Ae  fangdom  fa  really  united,  when  the 

Insh  people  h.™  dropped  their  .u,Iid  aloofness  aid 
^sentment  and  l«.»mo  gl«Uy  ,ee..d»t  in  .  e^m 
mon  and  w.lhng  obedience.    The  Inrtre  of  the  Z 
P^r.a  ero,™  is  (arrowed  from  the  radiance 

un.ty.    A  disaffected  India  dulls  our  diadem 
«»d  the  sovereign  glory  is  impaii^l.    So  I  re  '  at  °' 

unitj  that  lies  behind  it.    And  I  lift  the  r 

to  the  coronl  glory     jing  Je,^    ft  u7nZ 

Christ.    The  »p.cndourt  H°'s„t.^;rS  ^ 
"U^ies  ch.,^  ,„to  gracious  sympathies,  in  the 

breach,  endxng  discord,  and  creating  lu«a«^.  ^ 


M      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

on  His  head  are  to  be  "  many  crowns!  "  His  unify- 
iug  ministry  is  to  be  glorious,  and,  therefore,  He  is 
to  be  "  King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords,"  and  His 
sovereignty  is  to  shine  with  a  splendour  which  will 
never  be  quenched  in  eclipse  and  night.  I  want, 
therefore,  to  look  behind  the  sovereignty  to  the  unify' 
ing  work  which  gives  it  light  and  glory. 

First  of  all,  it  is  by  the  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  that  man  is  united  to  God.    The  Bible  speaks 
of  deep  and  terrible  alienations.    "  Your  sins  have 
separated  between  you  and  your  God."    That  is  the 
teaching  of  the  Scriptures,  a  teaching  confirmed  by 
the  witness  of  individual  knowledge  and  experience. 
Man  is  sundered  from  the  highest,  and  sin  has  dono 
It!    That  is  tlu  simple  statement  of  condition,  and 
that  is  the  simple  explanation.    I  know  that  there 
are  dark  abysses  of  mystery  in  the  apparent  sim- 
plicity, and  we  have  no  lead-lines  to  fathom  the 
deeps.    But  here  is  the  experimental  end  of  the 
mystery,  here  is  the  twilight  before  it  darkens  into 
night:  we  know  that  sin  is  always  the  minister 
of  division,  and  sin  is  always  personal,  and  in- 
volves individual  obligation.   We  know  that  sin  de- 
stroys  the  highest  relationships.    We  know  that  the 
atmosphere  of  sin  corrodes  all  the  fairest  intimacies 
and  all  the  finest  spiritual  powers.    We  know  that 
sin  withdraws  the  soul  into  an  ever-dwindling  circle, 
and  separates  it  from  God  and  from  the  best  in  mau. 
We  know  that  the  «  wages  of  sin  »  is  division,  aliena- 
tion, destruction  of  correspondence,  death  I   That  is 


HIS  MANY  CROWNS  gg 

the  teaching  of  the  Scriptures,  and  every  man  may 
find  the  confirmatory  seal  to  the  teaching  in  the 
witness  of  his  own  heart 

Now,  let  me  look  for  the  unifying  ministry  which 
gives  the  brightness  to  our  Saviour's  radiant  crown 
If  He  reigns  it  is  to  unite.    "  Ye  that  once  were  far 
off  are  made  nigh  by  the  blood  of  Christ."    We  may 
explain  it  as  we  may-I  will  not  now  disturb  the 
argument  by  presenting  any  particular  theorv.  Un- 
less we  reject  the  entire  Christian  Scriptures",  unless 
we  dram  away  the  very  life-blood  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment message,  we  must  accept  the  teaching  that  in 
some  altogether  unique  and  solitaiy  way  Jesus  Christ 
IS  the  sole  medium  and  minister  of  re-union  between 
sm-sundered  man  and  the  holy  God.    Present  what 
divergence  of  theory  we  may,  all  theories  which  draw 
their  hght  and  significance  from  the  New  Testament 
wiU  find  a  convergence  here-that  if  sin-bruised  and 
sm-destreyed  man  is  to  be  brought  to  the  fulness  and 
glory  of  the  life  of  God,  Jesus  Christ  has  got  to  do 
It.    Take  that  out  of  the  New  Testament,  throw  it 
away,  and  we  leave  flesh  without  blood,  letter  with- 
out  spirit,  words  without  a  gospel,  an  ideal  of  re- 
form without  the  power  of  salvation.    "Ye  that 
once  were  far  off  are  made  nigh  by  the  blood  of 
L-nnst.     He  unites  men  to  God  by  revelation,  by 
the  gift  of  Divine  light;  and  the  reign  of  the  night 
IS  ended.    He  unites  men  to  God  by  redemption,  by 

I^di  0^  deati  is 

ended.   He  umtes  men  to  God  by  ia^iratiou,  fcgr  tha 


W      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

gift  of  Divine  power;  and  the  reign  of  infinnity  is 
ended.    It  is  out  of  this  glorious  ministry  of  reunion 
that  there  emerges  the  splendour  of  His  sovereignty 
and  the  lustre  of  His  crown.    And,  therefore,  we  are 
toW  of  «a  multitude  whom  no  man  can  number" 
stMding  before  the  throne,  "clothed  with  while 
robes,  and  palms  in  their  hands."    «  And  these  are 
they  that  came  out  of  great  tribulation,  and  have 
washed  their  robes  and  made  them  white  in  the 
blood  of  the  Lamb."    And  those  glistening  robes  of 
those  redeemed  and  transfigured  souls  send  their 
sheen  into  the  Saviour's  diadem,  and  light  up  the 
jewels  of  His  eternal  crown. 

What  other  unity  lies  behind  the  sovereignty? 
It  IS  by  the  grace  of  the  lord  Jesus  that  man  is  to 
become  united  to  man.    If  coronal  majesty  finds  its 
glory  m  a  background  of  harmony  and  union,  then 
this  IS  to  be  one  of  the  coronal  glories  of  our  Lord. 
I  freely  confess  that  I  am  alive  to  the  cynical  com- 
m^which  18  made  upon  this  claim  by  the  distracted 
«I«cts  of  our  modem  life.    The  Unifier  of  man  and 
man!  and  deriving  His  glory  from  the  unityl 
Then,  surely.  He  has  but  a  thin  and  featureless 
sovereignty,  a  dull  and  uniUustrious  crown  I  Why 
every  new  human  discovery  is  first  of  aU  reg^^ 
ZfL"r'''  «f  alienation  and  strife,  andZns 
before  the  eyes  of  men  as  a  menace  and  a  frown  I 
The  aeroplane  IS  a  gigantic  bird  of  ill-omen,  . 
mech^ical  hawk  which  wiU  hover  about  the  abolle! 
<tf  men  as  an  engine  of  disaster  and  death.  "The 


HIS  MANY  CROWNS  85 

Unifier  of  man  and  man  I    The  King  of  brother- 
hoods  I    What  then,  i„  this  twentieth  century,  is 
the  range  of  His  territory  and  the  sweep  of  His 
d<»jimon  ?   Here,  there,  and  everywhere,  upon  the 
surface  of  human  «ff«„  there  are  bitter  pools,  circles 
of  VICIOUS  ferment,  hotbeds  of  jealousy  and  .uspi- 
cion,  the  breeding-grounds  of  alienation  and  strife.'' 
Thus  speaks  the  cynic,  and  I  see  it  «U,  and  know  it 
all,  and  m  spite  of  all  I  am  an  optimist!  Thank  God 
the  soldiery  of  the  world  is  not  the  final  expression  of 
power;  nor  will  armaments  finally  hinder  the  growth 
of  a  dominant  hmnanity  among  the  children  of  men. 
All  over  the  world  subtle  and  invincible  ties  are  bein^ 
woven  between  people  .nd  people,  gracious  intimacies 
and  fellowships,  bonds  of  brotherhood,  the  strength 
and  brightness  of  which  will  one  day  put  the  mAt- 
bmls  of  war  to  final  flight.    These  fraternal  thr^ 
ot  union,  weaving  a  solid  compact  understandimr 
and  good  will,  and  never  so  operative  as  theyJe 

t«  be  discounted 

and  Ignored  by  those  whose  ears  are  only  attuned 
to  the  clamour  of  war.    But  there  the  threads  are, 
and  the  weaver  is  Christ  I    I  make  bold  to  say  tha 
even  m  the  relationships  between  Britain  J 

^any,  and  m  spite  of  all  the  wicked  instigation. 

to  Wish  jealousy  and  strife,  the  quirfe.  Tf 
|P,    he  commerce  of  mutual  respect  and 

^  will,  the  beating  of  kindred  hearts  with  a 

oon^n  faith^^  „ever  so  strong  and  abounding 
thay        to^.y.    The  people  are  drawing  tl 


86      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHUROT 

gether  I  am  a  beUetrer  in  the  strength  of  these 
invisible  filaments,  these  moral  and  spiritual  inti- 
mace^  which  are  independent  of  race  and  cUme;  and 
I  behave  that,  in  a  measure  whic  h  not  aU  of  us 
realise  these  correspondences  ar-  bei,,^  created  to- 

they  are  being  drawn  hy  the  Lonl  of  th.  i.,..,;  K.,  who 
when  on  earth  was  a  Son  ,,f  the  people,  the  Man 
of  Nazareth,  the  Son  of  Man,  the  Son  of  God. 

"Peoples  and  rMlnu  of  every  tongue 
Dwell  on  His  name  with  sweetest  song." 

"After  this  I  beheld,  and  lol  a  great  multitude 
which  no  man  can  number  of  ail  peoples  and  kindreds 
and  tnbes  and  tongues,  standing  before  the  throne." 
The  coronal  majesty  of  King  Jesus  shall  derive  some 

^  t?,^"^  -  ^or 

And  lastly,  it  is  by  the  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus 

Christ  that  man  and  nature  come  into  union,  and  He 
claims  all  the  ministries  by  which  the  union  is  made 
It  IS  the  purpose  of  the  Lord  that  man  shall  live  in 
d^st  comniunion  with  the  natural  world,  reading 
as  mil  in  her  order,  His  mind  in  her  secrets.  His 
^uth  in  her  s^bols,  finding  the  material  houae  to 
the  hoi^e  of  God  and  a  gate  of  heaven.  «  The 
who^  earth  is  full  of  His  glory,"  and  He  who  i! 
the  Lord  of  glorv.  and  "  in  whom  all  things  consist  " 

I'         f        '''^  of  men,T  Hi^lf 

the  minister  of  revelation  even  in  the  domaW 


HIS  MANY  CROWNS  87 

the  natural  world.    And,  therefore,  in  the  shiniiur 
sovereignty  of  Christ  are  to  be  found  all  the  iZ 
irtnes  by  which  men  discern  the  invisible  secrets 
of  this  visible  world.    And,  therefore,  the  crown  of 
poetry  is  one  of  the  crowns  of  the  Lord.  Whenever 
in  nature  the  opaque  becomes  the  transparent,  when- 
fever  thr  tangible  discloses  the  intangible,  whenever 
the  material  object  becomes  thin  as  a  bridal  veil  and 
nion  discern  a  face,  the  uniting  minister  is  the  Christ 
of  God.    And  therefore,  also,  the  crown  of  art  is 
one  of  the  crowns  of  the  Lord.    It  has  been  said 
that  painting  and  sculpture  are  gymnastics  of  the 
eye,  and  ao  they  are;  they  are  gracious  disciplines 
to  train  the  eye  to  discern  for  itself  the  finer  splen- 
dour  of  colour  and  the  nobler  expressions  of  form 
in  the  natural  world.    And  whatever  nnveils  to  the 
eye  of  man  a  loveliness  hitherto  concealed,  some 
chaste  and  chastening  beauty  of  form  or  hue,  is 
iteelf  a  means  of  grace,  and  is,  therefore,  gracious, 
and  can  have  but  one  source,  even  the  grace  of  the 
W  Jesus  Christ.    And,  therefore,  also  the  crown 
of  science  is  one  of  the  crowns  of  the  Lord.  He 
who  IS  the  truth  can  never  be  divorced  from  any 
fonn  of  truth.         ray  of  light  travels  in  a  d<^ 
Tu"       '""^"^  ^'^^overy 
A  t™«    .LiT'"  '^-elatioi 

i^rd.    Every  liberated  secret  is  an  unfolding  of 
Ae  tmexplorable  riches  of  Christ  ^ 
These,  then,  are  some  of  the  crowns  of  the  King; 


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«8      THE  THANSFIGUHED  CHURCH 

BAM  His  sovereignty  ,«  ^^^^  ^ 

unutterable  grandeu,.    By  Him  duUI  m«>  be  ™itod 

am  shaU  man  be  united  to  the  „,ystic  and  «ignifi 
«mt  pre»enees  of  this  natural  world.  His  are  the 
«ro^  of  sojence  and  poetry  and  art,  to  Him  belongs 

^"■^(^^tT"  ^--^  »^ 

«^  Olivine.      On  His  head  are  many  crowns  1" 


TO 

THE  HALLOWING  OF  THE  OUTER 
COURTS 

"His  train  filled  the  temple."— Is.  vi.  i. 

The  prophet  had  lost  a  hero  and  found  his  Lord 
In  the  ..ear  that  King  Uzziah  died  I  saw  the  lT'' 
He  had  anticipated  that  when  the  good  King  uSah 
d.ed  he  hneh.pin  ..uld  be  removed,  and  the^ff 

disaster.  AU  Isaiah^s  hopes  were  centred  in  this 
radical  and  aggressively  righteous  monarch,  and  he 

aken.    He  anticipated  chaos,  and  in  place  of  chaos 
here  emerged  the  I.rd  of  Orderl    He  fo Jd  th" 
the  days  of  his  hero-worship  he  had  been  living  in 

partiaUy  obscured,  there  had  been  an  eclipse  of  the 

had  ended,  and  the  Presence  of  the  Lord  blazed  out 
m  unexpected  fflorv!    «Tn  «^i^u  out 

Uzziah  died  I  saw  the  Lord."  It  had  seemed  to  the 
foreboding  fears  of  the  depressed  yonth  as  t^^^ 

he  very  existence  of  the  kingdom  was  invol^^ 
the  continued  reign  of  the  kin^    Tf  h.  !!!  u 
tliATi «    A     •  •    ^  .    ^  '"^^  ^^^g-    -li  he  goes— what 
then?   A  crisi.  was  assured  I    And  yet  in  place  of 
the  cr^  c«ne  God,  and  the  efful^nt  glor^  ™ . 


90       THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


bewildering.    Succeeding  generations  of  men  have 

shared  these  pessimistic  fears.    We  have  riveted  our 
gaze  upon  the  incidental  until  the  incidental  has 
become  the  essential,  and  we  have  feared  the  wither- 
ing blast  of  death.      What  will  Israel  do  when 
Uzziah  is  taken  ?  "    "  What  will  Methodism  do  when 
John  Wesley  is  removed  ? "    «  What  will  the  Salva- 
tion Army  do  when  anything  happens  to  its  Gen- 
eral ? "    "  What  will  this  or  that  church  do  when 
bereft  of  its  minister? "    And  the  long-feared  crisis 
has  come,  I. it  instead  of  being  left  to  the  hopeless, 
clammy  darkness  of  the  grave,  we  have  gazed  upon 
the  dazzling  glories  of  a  forgotten  heaven!  The 
transient  pomp  and  splendour  died,  and  their  passing 
removed  the  veil  from  the  face  of  the  Eternal,  and 
we  saw  the  Lord.    "In  the  year  that  King  Uzziah 
died  I  saw  the  Lord."   He  anticipated  an  end,  he 
found  a  new  beginning. 

But  it  was  not  only  that  Isaiah  had  an  unexpected 
vision  of  God,  it  was  the  unique  character  of  the 
vision  which  impressed  and  empowered  him.  Where 
does  the  wonder  of  the  prophet  culminate  ?  I  saw 
the  Lord,  sitting  upon  a  throne!  "  That  was  not  the 
unfamiliar  sight,  and  not  there  did  the  prophet's 
wonder  gather.  "  High  and  lifted  up !  "  A  terrible 
sublimity,  like  some  towering  and  awe-inspiring 
Alpine  height !  Yet  not  there  was  concentrated  the 
supreme  surprise.  "And  his  train  filled  the  tem- 
ple!" That  was  the  marvel  which  made  the 
prophet's  heart  stand  still.    He  was  not  a  stranger 


HALLOWING  OF  THE  OUTER  COURTS  91 

to  the  conception  of  the  throne,  or  of  the  lonelj  and 
snow-white  exaltation,  but  this  vision  of  the  train 
that  "  filled  the  temple  "  was  altogether  foreign  to 
his  thought.    We  must  remember  that  in  all  these 
temple  arrangements  of  the  olden  days  there  were 
different  grades  and  varying  degrees  of  sanctity. 
Even  in  the  time  of  our  Lord  there  were  divisions, 
separating  the  holy  and  the  profane,  beginning  at 
the  outer  courts,  where  the  foot  of  the  Gentile  might 
tread,  but  beyond  which  he  was  not  permitted  to 
pass,  on  penalty  of  death,  on  to  the  veiled  and  sUent 
chamber  where  the  awful  Presence  dwelt  between 
the  cherubim.    And  there  was  the  same  gradient 
in  the  thought  of  the  young  Isaiah.    There  were 
divisions  in  his  temple,  separating  the  different  de- 
grees of  sanctity,  ranging  from  the  much-diluted 
holiness  of  the  remote  circumference  to  the  clean  and 
quenchless  flame  of  the  sacred  Presence.    And  now 
comes  this  strange  and  all-convulsing  vision:  "His 
train  filled  the  temple,"  filled  it,  every  section  of  it, 
every  corner  of  it,  to  the  furthest  and  outermost  wall. 
"  The  posts  of  the  thresholds,"  not  merely  the  cur- 
tains of  the  inner  shrine,  « the  posts  of  the  thresh- 
olds moved  at  the  voice  of  him  that  cried,  and  the 
house  was  fiUed  with  smoke."   That  is  the  word 
which  expresses  the  supreme  wonder  of  this  great 
inaugural  vision.    "His  train  filled  the  temple  I" 
The  house  was  filled  with  smoke."    The  garments 
of  the  Ahnighty  swept  an  unsuspected  area.  His  robe 
unpartiaUy  carpeted  the  entire  pUe,  there  was  not  a 


«      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

single  inch  that  was  exempt  from  the  tonch  of  Hia 
enveloping  Presence.  "  His  train  filled  the  temple." 
What,  then,  had  the  crisis  brought  to  this  young  hem- 
wo^hipper  who  had  boon  so  fearful  of  the  passing 
«^^hi8  noble  king?  It  .ad  brought  to  him  a  larger 
concephon  of  God,  a  filling-out  conception  of  God, 
a  full-tide  conception,  filling  every  nook  and  creek 

Now,  the  most  important  crises  in  a  man's  life  aie 
related  to  the  growth  or  impoverishment  of  his  con- 
<«P  ion  of  God.    It  is  momentous  when  some  area 
m  the  wide  circle  of  his  life  is  unexpectedly  dis- 
covered to  be  the  dwelling-place  of  God.  Robinson 
Crusoe  begins  to  track  his  desolate  and  presumably 
uninhabited  island,  and  one  day,  on  the  sLy  sho,; 
he  comes  upon  the  print  of  a  human  foot  Thai 
footprint  revolutionises- his  entire  conception  of  the 
island^  and  all  his  plans  and  expedients  are  trans- 

Its  activities  which  has  never  been  related  to  God 

exira7'"'  ~  to 

exercise  a  living  and  immediate  authority,  one  day 

-expectedly  discovers  His  footprints  upon  this  paT 

ticular  tract  of  the  sands  of  time,  and  the  wh'ole 

of  the  spiritual  outlook  is  transformed.  "Surely 

the  Lord  IS  in       place,  and  I  knew  it  not."  «  T}1' 

L  mL  .  ^  momentous  crisis  in 

the  history  of  the  soul  when  its  conception  of  the 


HALLOWING  OF  THE  OUTER  COURTS  93 

Lord's  Presence  and  authority  covers  unfamiliar  and 
uiisiispected  fields.  It  is  a  high  birthday  for  the 
soul  when  the  soul  discovers  that  the  Lord  is  on  the 
other  side  of  the  barrier,  and  that  His  train  fiUs  the 
temple. 

Now  some  of  the  great  soul^rises  can  be  more 
particularly  defined.  There  are  certain  familiar  ex- 
penenees,  enlarging  and  enriching,  which  mark  the 
pilgrimage  of  every  man's  thought  as  he  moves  for- 
ward  m  the  life  divine.  They  have  this  common 
characteristic,  that  each  is  concerned  with  the  reclam- 
ation of  some  province  which  has  hitherto  been 
regarded  as  altogether  unhaUowed  or  only  partially 
sanctified.  Let  me  give  two  or  three  modem  ex- 
amples. Here  is  a  temple,  with  a  dividing  barrier 
^  S       p'    *  to  two 

sections,  one  of  which 
18  described  as  sacred  and  the  other  as  secular  or 
profane    That  is  a  division  which  is  made,  not 
merely  by  the  thoughtless  and  flippant,  but  even  by 
many  grave  and  serious  minds.    On  one  side  the 
barrier  they  move  softly  and  reverently,  as  though 
feeling  che  very  breathings  of  the  Almighty  Pri- 
ence;  on  the  other  side  they  step  loudly  and  thought- 
essly,  as  though  the  Almighty  were  absent.  And 
then  one  day  there  comes  one  of  the  great  crises  1 
ijsve  named,  and  on  the  secular  side  of  the  barrier 
they  see  the  tnuling  garments  of  the  Lord,  and  they 
are  fiUed  with  a  surprise  which  ends  in  resurrection. 
For  It  IS  a  birthday  for  the  soul  when  we  discover 
that  the  Lord  occupies  the  whole  of  this  divided 


W      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

house  and  that  Hig  train  fills  the  temple.  Yon 
know  how  we  divide  this  temple  into  the  secular 

and  sacred     We  began  with  personages,  and  we  said 
that  all  who  stand  on  one  side  of  the  line  shall  be 
regarded  as  holj,  and  shall  receive  singular  ordina- 
tion and  anointing.    And  f\cn  we  passed  from  the 
person^  to  their  work.      1  we  decided  that  the 
work  of  the  anointed  shov  .  oe  esteemed  as  holy,  and 
that  his  eallmg  should  be  regarded  with  reverent  awe. 
And  so  the  ministry  was  supposed  to  live  on  one  side 
the  barrier,  engaged  in  its  holy  calling,  while  quite 
a  lower  significance  was  attached  to  tL      ork  that 
IS  ^ected  on  the  other  side.    I  have  frequently 
heard  reference  to  my  own  vocation  as  a  "sacred 
ca^ng /  but  I  have  rarely,  if  ever,  heard  the  same 
sober  phrase  applied  to  the  work  of  the  baker  or  tent- 
maker,  or  even  to  the  work  of  the  City  Councillor 
or  the  members  of  the  House  of  Commons.    But  ihe 
seamless  robe  of  the  Lord  is  on  both  sides  the  arti- 
ficia  barrier,  and  all  things  on  either  side  can  be 
equally  sacred  and  sanctified.    Our  Anglican  breth- 
ren consecrate  their  graveyard,  and  they  consecrate 
the  bells  that  peal  in  their  towers  and  spires;  I  do 
not  disagree  with  it :  it  is  a  most  impressive  ministry  • 
1  only  say,  go  on  with  the  consecration  service  until 
the  very  bells  upon  the  horses  are  holiness  unto 
the  Lord.     I  have  seen  the  trailing  garment  of  the 
Lord  in  the  chancel,  at  the  altar,  among  the  multi- 
tude in  the  nave,  among  the  little  group  of  lonely 
monmers  as  they  stand  at  the  new-made  tomb,  but  I 


HALLOWING  OP  THE  OUTER  CODHM  M 

have  also  seen  it  in  the  open  rtreete,  uamg  the 

common  ways  of  „en,  at  the  mart,  in  the  fo~ 
at  the  common  meal  as  well  as  at  the  sacrameS 
least.  The  sweeping  garment  is  on  the  other  side 
of  the  bamer,  md  the  train  fills  the  temple.   It  is 

o'fT^I"'- 1'  '  the  train 

of  the  Almighty  wrapping  it«,lf  .bont  his  common 

tain  I      This  IS  our  sacred  pl«»  I    "Te  My  that 

Ship,  but  that  is  our  secular  placr  I  And  then  the 
Lord  opens  the  woman's  eyes  to  the  onderful  vision 
which  nukes  Geruim  and  Jerusalem  one  I  "  Neither 

fem'^in":":-'^"  i!  " 

and  the  secular  become  one,  the  sweet  in«en«  Ae, 
n  the  outer  courts,  and  the  strain  of  the  singin, 

seraphim  revives  even  those  who  stand  at  the  tS 

Mr,  ™  *"  T  ™*  "      «»  to  our  wor- 

ah^P,  we  ean  g„  to  the  polling-booth  as  we  go  to 
^h,  for  .the  I^rd  is  high  and  lifted  npf^^ 
Hu  train  fills  the  temple." 

Let  me  now  mention  Mother  temple  which  our 
mode™  thought  so  frequently  divided  «cti^ 
of  different  degrees  of  sanctity,  as  the  tempi,  w. 

««mot  think  they  are  commonly  looked  upon  ;ith  the 


96      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

same  venerable  and  awe-inspiring  /egard.    It  is  a 
great  day  for  a  man  when  the  wonderful  revelati<m 
breaks  upon  his  eyes,  that  these  two  entities  possess 
a  common  sanctity,  that  our  division  is  unwise  and 
impoverishing,  and  that  His  train  fills  the  whole 
temple.    In  the  olden  days  there  was  a  school  of 
thinkers  who  regarded  matter  as  essentially  evil,  the 
very  sphere  and  dwelling-place  of  evil,  and  therefore 
the  body  itself  was  esteemed  as  the  veiy  province 
of  the  devil.    It  was  therefore  further  reasoned  that 
to  despise  the  body  was  to  heap  shame  and  contumely 
upon  the  devil,  and  that  one  of  the  holiest  exercises 
was  thus  to  treat  the  flesh  with  disdain  and  con- 
topt    The  body  was  a  thing  of  the  gutter,  gutter- 
bom,  and  destined  to  a  gutternieath  I  Therefore 
they  neglected  it,  they  bruised  it,  they  refused  to 
cleanse  it,  and  they  utterly  deprived  it  of  any  atten- 
tion  and  adornment.    So  far  as  the  body-part  of  the 
temple  was  concerned,  the  Lord  was  not  in  it! 
Now  we  can  see  the  force  and  relevancy  of  the 
Apostle's  firm  and  vigorous  teaching:  "  Know  ye  not 
that  your  hody  is  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost? "I 
That  word  would  come  as  a  bewildering  surprise  I 
The  Lord's  temple  does  not  end  where  the  spirit . 
ends;  it  includes  the  body  too:  and  His  train  fills 
the  temple!    "I  beseech  you,  therefore,  by  the 
mercies  of  God,  that  ye  present  your  bodies  a  living 
sacrifice,  holy,  acceptable  unto  God,  which  is  your 
reasonable  service."   TJuit  veil  in  the  temple  has 
been  rent  in  twain  I 


HALLOWmo  OF  THE  OUTER  COURTS  W 

Th^  ia  Btm  yet  another  temple  which  we  diviu. 

oW  wasdrnded.    One  ride  of  the  barrier  is  described 
as  home,  the  other  aide  «a  foreign,  the  one  side  as 
Jew  the  other  side  as  Gentile.   And  ao  the  temple 
Itself  rather  than  the  partitioning  veil,  i.  too  fre- 
quently rent  in  twain.    It  is  a  season  of  wonderful 
regeneration  when  first  the  train  of  the  Almighty  is 
seen  to  fiU  the  entire  temple,  and  the  whole  of  the 
unworthily  divided  area  is  seen  to  be  the  familiar 
walfan^f^round  of  the  Eternal  God.    To  go  out  I 
say  into  the  section  regarded  as  foreign,  and'to 
behold  the  footprints  of  the  Lord,  to  aee  that,  even 
where  home  ends,  the  trailing  garment  of  the  Lord ' 
sweeps  on,  is  a  great  birthday  for  the  soul,  a  day  of 
fertilising  knowledge  and  of  enei^ising  grace!  To 
gaze  upon  other  sects,  foreign  to  our  own,  and  to  see 
ctmimon  footprints  in  the  varying  roads;  to  gaze 
upon  other  nations,  foreign  to  our  own,  and  to  see 
the  mystic  garment  in  their  unfamiliar  ways,  to  dis- 
cover  that  the  train  fiUs  the  entire  temple,  L  to  enter 
an  experience  only  less  momentous  than  our  oonver- 
sion,  for  ,t  is  a  second  conversion  into  the  lar«r 
thought  and  love  of  God.    "  In  Christ  Jesus  there  is 
neither  circumcision  nor  uncircumcision,  neither  Jew 
nor  Gentile,  neither  bond  nor  free."    « His  train 
filled  the  temple." 

And  as  it  is  with  aU  these  unlawful  distinctions, 
distinctions  so  frequently  aggravated  into  antago- 
msms,  so  It  is  with  the  alienated  ministries  of  sdX 


98      THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

and  religion.    Tliey  have  been  too  eoamady  n- 
garded  as  though  separated  by  an  impassable  btrrier 
on  only  one  side  of  which  there  flamed  the  presence' 
of  the  Lord.    We  have  regarded  the  revelations  of 
science  an  though  they  were  the  decrees  of  an  alien 
power,  and  we  have  listened  suspiciouHly  to  the  story 
of  the  pUnet  aa  though  it  were  antagonistic  to  the 
story  of  grace.   But  now  we  are  reaching  a  wiaer 
synthesis.    More  and  more  clearly  are  we  recogni.- 
ing  that  the  Lord's  train  fills  the  entire  temple,  and 
that  on  both  sides  the  artificial  barrier  we  have  the 
revelation  of  the  same  mind.    And  so  now  we  are 
watching  science  as  she  deciphers  the  rocks,  and 
fw«cki  the  treasures  of  the  air,  and  unravels  the 
history  of  planets,  in  the  same  reverent  spirit  in 
which  we  watch  the  learned  saint  disentangle  the 
truth  from  the  ancient  word.    His  train  fiOs  the 
temple  1    One  decree  tuns  through  the  whole  uni- 
verse,  and  the  ultimate  secret  of  Calvary  will  not  be 
found  m  final  conflict  with  the  liberated  secrets  of 
the  stars. 


vm 

WHAT  IS  SIN? 

"  O  wretched  man  that  I  ,m,  who  dull  deliver  m.  out  of  tk. 
body  of  this  death?  I  thank  Ood  thnqgh  Jmn^^^^ 
LwAl  "—Bolt.  vU.  24,  25.  ™* 

A  by  no  means  incompetent  judge  has  declared 
tow  own  conviction  that  this  seventh  chapter  of 
BomaM  is  "meet  certainly  the  most  terrible  tragedy 
in  al  Iite^ti^e,  «icient  or  modem,  sacred  or  pro- 
fane.'  "  Set  beside  the  seventh  of  the  Romans," 
he  says,  "all  your  8<H»Ued  great  tragedies-your 
Macbeths,  your  Hamlets,  your  Lears,  your  Othdlos. 
are  all  but  so  many  stage-plays;  so  n    h  sound  and 

i"'^'^^^         '"'''^  *°  "^'^S  alongside 
awful  tragedy  of  sin.  ,  .  .  The  seventh  oJthe 
Komans  should  always  be  print     in  letters  of  blood 
Here  are  passions.    K  r.  are  terror  and  pity.  Here 
heaven  and  heU  meet,  as  nowhere  else  in  heaven  or 

for  the  everlasting  possession  of  that  immortal  soul, 
till  you  have  a  tragedy  indeed;  beside  which  there 
IS  no  other  tragedy." 

^  J^iL?l"       ""^^       "^«P*«'  ^«       does.  It 

«  V  7  "'^^  contending  combatants 
even  upon  the  plane  of  the  sanctified  life.  To  these 


100     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

hostilities  there  is  no  truce;  the  apparent  departure 
of  the  foe  18  only  a  feint  for  a  subtler  approach. 
Ihe  enemy  u  on  the  field  when  night  lulls  the 
eenaes  to  rest,  he  is  on  the  field  at  the  new  awaking. 

To  me,  who  would  do  good,  evil  is  present,"  a 
forceful,  bewitching  mesmerism,  an  almost  stupefy- 
ing fascination  I    "What  I  hate,  I  do  I"  "The 
good  which  I  would  I  do  not;  but  the  evil  which  I 
would  not,  that  I  do."    «0  wretched  man  Aat  I 
am!  r  ho  shall  deliver  me  out  of  the  body  of  this 
death,"  out  of  the  death-dealing  grip  of  this  tremen- 
dous  and  ubiquitous  foe?    Such  is  the  tragedy,  and 
we  have  all  experienced  its  horrors,  for  the  battle 
and  the  battle-fields  are  only  limited  by  the  race. 
But  not  yet  have  we  finished  the  verse.    Up  to  this 
point  the  narrative  of  the  chapter  has  raced  aloni? 
m  heated,  gasping,  bewildered  leaps,  but  the  ve^ 
next  sentence  comes  like  a  sweet,  restful  morning 
after  the  convulsions  of  an  awful  night  «0 
^hed  man  that  I  am!  who  shall  deliver  me  out 
of  the  body  of  this  death?"  .  .  .  "I  thank  God, 
through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ"    So  He  gives  His 
beloved  rest  and  peace. 

And  now  let  us  come  to  the  immediate  matter  of 
our  meditation  by  asking  this  question.  What  is  this 
sin  which  so  inflames  this  narrative,  and  so  tyran- 
mses  the  life?  What  is  sin?  I  am  not  seeking^or 
a  mere  th«,logical  definition,  but  for  some  clear, 
Wrathful,  adequate,  experimental  conception  of  it. 
What  IS  sin  ?   The  place  to  ask  the  question,  and  to 


WHAT  IS  sm? 

an  answer  to  it,  is  not  in  the  restrictive  and 
perverting  publicity  of  a  debating  society,  but  in  the 
deep  sohtudes  of  one's  own  soul.    The  evidence 
which  18  requisite  for  a  judgment  will  never  be 
tabled  m  the  open  court  of  publicity,  it  must  be 
sought  amid  all  the  reserves  of  the  secret  place.  It 
cannot  be  discussed  as  a  theological  generality,  an 
impersonal  abstraction,  removed  from  the  colour  and 
life  and  movement  of  the  individual  soul.  There 
are  many  mathematical  problems  which  can  be  dis- 
cussed m  abstraction,  far  away  from  the  hard  reali- 
^  of  common  experience.    Nay,  it  has  frequently 
been  by  the  mystical  highway  of  mathematical  ab- 
stractions  that  we  have  marched  to  the  discovery 
of  material  facts.    The  mathematician  has  discovered 
the  existence  of  the  comet  long  before  it  appeared 
to  the  astronomers.    From  the  generality  we  got 
a  particularity;  by  an  abstraction  we  were  led  to  a 
fact    But  I  do  not  think  that  is  the  order  when  we 
are  investigating  the  nature  of  sin.    In  this  realm 
I  rather  think  the  course  is  not  from  an  idea  to  an 
experience,  but  from  an  experience  to  an  idea.  Be- 
tore  half  a  dozen  men  can  fruitfuUy  discuss  the 
theory  of  sm,  it  is  essential  that  each  man  shall  have 
investigated  the  facts  of  his  own  soul  and  examined 
the  secret  judgments  of  his  o^vn  experience.  The 
appeal  ,8  to  Ciesar,  and  in  this  relationship  Casar 
IS  the  individual  soul. 

What,  then,  has  our  hidden  consciousness  to  say 
about  It?   Matthew  Arnold  declared  that  «n  wi^ 


m     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

"  not  a  monster,  but  an  infinnily."    I  wiU  not  dis- 
cuss  that  m  vacuo.    I  merely  ask,  what  has  my  soul 
to  say  about  it  ?    Does  my  soul  accept  the  ameliora- 
tive term,  and  feel  itself  secretly  justified?    If  sin 
be  only  infirmity,  there  would  be  no  sense  of  guilt  and 
no  harrowing  consciousness  of  blame.  A  man  who  is 
born  vuth  imperfect  physical  sight  is  not  responsible 
for  his  infirmity,  nor  is  he  conscious  of  any  burden- 
some blame.    But  when  I  sin  I  am  conscious  of  more 
than  weakness;  it  is  a  happening  that  might  have 
happened  otherwise,  and  I  know  myself  responsible 
for  the  choice.    And  so  when  I  go  into  my  soul 
wHere  the  sin  has  been  wrought,  and  seek  to  label 
the  sm  by  the  plausible  name  of  "infirmity,"  my 
wul  rejecte  the  plea  in  the  consuming  sense  of  its 
own  shame. 

Jor  do  I  fare  any  better  when  I  am  presented 
with  the  excuse  of  inherited  temperament.    I  am 
told  that  I  am  the  creature  of  heredity,  and  that  I 
have  inherited  an  unfavourable  and  overwhelming 
bias.    I  ta^e  that  softening  plea  into  my  soul,  where 
tile  wreckage  occasioned  by  a  violent  passion  is 
8trewn  all  about,  but  my  soul  wiU  have  none  of  it 
and  spurns  the  explanation  as  futile  and  irrelevant! 
The  extraordinary  thing  is  that  I  can  excuse  another 
man  because  of  his  legacy  of  bad  blood  and  jarrinir 
nerves,  but  I  cannot  excuse  myself.    Nor  L  Z 

t^u'^'^  \  self-extenua- 

1^  -hould  know  no  guilt  and  experience  no  blame. 


WHAT  IS  SIN? 

But  after  every  outburst  of  passion  my  soul  knows 
It  could  have  been  otherwise,  my  judgment  is  against 
myself,  I  do  not  distribute  the  blame  over  my  an- 
oestry,  I  make  the  indictment  personal  and  imme- 
diate; "my  sin  is  ever  before  me." 

Nor  do  I  fare  any  better  with  another  suggestion, 
namely  this,  that  sin  is  adequately  explained  by  the 
invincibility  of  external  circumstances,  by  the  bru- 
tally terrific  power  of  my  environment.  I  confess  I 
am  very  eager  to  throw  this  shield  over  many  a 
brother,  but  it  offers  no  defence  to  my  own  soul  I 
note  the  adversaries  which  surround  my  brother,  like 
wolves  bearing  down  on  a  fold,  I  mark  the  fierceness 
and  suddenness  of  the  attack,  and  I  feel  compeUed 

to  say.  How  could  he  have  done  anything  else!  But 
again,  the  extraordinary  thing  is  this,  that  my 
brother,  m  his  own  secret  consciousness,  cannot  a^ 
cept  the  plea,  and  secretly  rejects  the  excuse.  He 
knows  that  the  surrender  was  not  inevitable,  and  that, 

ItlLTu     *  "  possibility  to  have 

mastered  the  circumstances  which  led  to  his  degrada- 
tion. No  man  is  compelled  to  lie;  and  every  man 
knows  It.  He  can  breast  the  blows  of  circumstance 
and  honour  and  keep  the  truth.  I  am  not  now 
concerned  with  what  we  say  to  one  another,  but  with 
what  we  say  in  our  secret  selves,  and  I  testify  that 
m  my  own  self-consciousness  my  sin  never  finds  its 
^'^^^     ■'^y  supposed  inevitf '  ility  in  my  sur- 

But  let  n.  go  a  step  higher.   It  has  been  said 


104     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

that  the  essence  of  all  sin  is  the  making  self  the 
centre  to  which  we  subordinate  all  other  beings  and 
interests.    I  think  there  is  much  truth  in  the  state- 
ment, and  yet  I  think  it  is  a  very  inadequate  ex- 
planation.   When  I  take  the  statement  and  examine 
it  among  the  experiences  of  my  own  secret  conscious- 
ness it  does  not  give  me  satisfaction.    There  is  more 
in  sin  than  the  statement  includes,  more  than  the 
exaltation  of  one's  self  and  the  subordination  of  one's 
brother.    These  may  be  and  are  the  consequences  of 
sin,  but  I  do  not  think  they  constitute  its  essence. 
When  I  sin  I  am  conscious  of  more  than  self  and 
brother;  in  the  wide,  silent  solitudes  of  my  soul  I 
am  dimly  conscious  of  a  vaster  Presence  still.  I 
may  not  be  able  to  define  it,  but  its  existence  is  surely 
recogniseu.    When  I  retire  into  this  secret  conscious- 
ness I  feel  I  cannot  express  sin  in  terms  of  self  and 
brother,  but  only  in  terms  of  self  and  brother 
and  God.    There   are   more   circles   and  centres 
than  two;  there  is  a  third  circle,  and  the  centre  of 
this  circle  I  cannot  forget  or  ignore.    When  Judas 
betrayed  the  Nazarene,  could  the  sin  be  all  expressed 
in  terms  of  Judas  and  Nazarene;  or  was  there  a 
third  Factor  present,  and  was  it  the  mysterious 
Third  which  haunted  him  with  awful  dread,  and 
which  drove  him  headlong  to  "the  field  of  blood"? 
In  the  great  drama  of  "The  Tempest,"  Alonzo 
foully  rids  himself  of  Prospero,  and  usurps  his  place 
and  power;  could  the  sin  be  adequatelv  expressed  in 
terms  of  self  and  brother,  or  is  a  third  included, 


WHAT  IS  SIN?  105 

and  is  it  to  the  third  w»  owe  the  wiil  of  rfter 
days  I 

"     monatrtnuil  monstrotnl 
Methought  the  billows  spoke,  and  told  me  of  it; 
The  winds  did  sing  it  to  me:  and  the  thunder, 
^t  deep  and  dreadfid  oi|pui-p,>,,  pronounced 
Tiie  name  of  Froqiert " 

*"  Thp  voice  of  the  great  Eternal  spake  in  that 
mighty  tone."  When  I  closely  interrogate  my  own 
secret  oonscionsness,  I  find  this  threefold  circle  in 
every  sin. 

And  further,  therefore  I  cannot  altogether  agree 
with  the  statement  that  "sin  is  the  deprivation  of 
God      "Deprivation  "  is,  perhaps,  a  word  unfortu- 
nately chosen.    The  Scriptures  use  another  and  a 
better  word.    "  Your  sins  have  separated  between 
you  and  your  God."   Yes,  but  the  separation  is  not 
the  an,  it  is  the  consequence  of  che  sin.    When  I 
sm^  ,8  not  away,  I  am  too  powerfully  conscious 
that  He  18  there.    I  hear  His  voice,  I  deliberately 
go  agamst  it.    I  have  gone  against  it  when  it  rang 
out  like  a  loud  alarm-beU  in  the  dead  of  niglrti 
What,  then,  is  sin?  ^ 

What  say  the  Scriptures?  Jesus  had  compara- 
t^ly  little  to  say  about  sin  as  sin.  Enough  had 
')een  said,  and  enough  was  known.  He  came  to  re- 
move It,  not  to  describe  it.  But  tiiis  much  is  taught, 
tae  two  tilings  at  any  rate,  and  I  think  they  are 
both  confirmed  in  the  secret  consdousnesi  of  the 


106     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

individual  life;  firstly,  sin  is  a  voluntary  brPaking 
away  from  the  Divine  will,  a  conscious  and  deliber- 
ate violation  of  the  Divine  order;  and,  secondly,  sin 
results  in  a  certain  distortion  of  tlie  life,  a  certain 
twist  in  our  relationship  to  the  Highest,  which  evi- 
dences itself  in  the  disturbing  and  maiming  sense 
of  guilt.  A  violation  and  a  distortion !   Such  is  the 
teaching  of  the  Scriptures,  and  such  are  the  findings 
of  my  own  experience.    I  am  prepared,  therefore, 
to  accept  these  words  of  a  great  experimental  thinker 
that  sin  is  "  the  God-resisting  disposition,  in  virtue 
of  which  man,  in  self-sufficiency  and  pride,  opposes 
hmiself  to  God,  and  withdraws  himself  from  the 
spirit  of  Divine  life  and  love."    That  satisfies  my 
con«5iousne8s,  as  indeed  it  explains  my  experience. 

Well,  now,  how  shaU  we  deal  with  it?  "Who 
shall  deliver  us  out  of  this  body  of  death?"  Mat- 
thew Arnold  tolls  us  that  it  is  "  an  infirmity  to  be 
got  rid  of,"  but  he  omits  to  tell  us  how.    He  cer- 
tainly says  that  "  thinking  about  sin  beyond  what  is 
indispensable  for  the  firm  effort  to  get  rid  of  it  is  a 
waste  of  energy  and  a  waste  of  time."    I  truly  be- 
lieve in  the  sanity  of  the  warning  conveyed  in  this 
counsel;  but,  ah,  me  I  that  bit  about  "the  firm  eflbrt 
to  get  rid  of  it "  appears  to  mock  at  my  desire.  It 
seems  like  telling  one  of  our  electric  cars,  whose 
trolley-pole  is  all  awry,  to  make  "firm  effort"  to 
get  along!    Just  what  Matthew  Arnold  counsels  me 
to  do  I  am  unable  to  do.    What  is  this  "  firm  effort  " 
by  which  I  am  to  get  rid  of  sin,  and  its  attending 


WHAT  IS  SIN?  iffi 

distortion  of  guilt !  Another  counsellor  come,  f  my 
«de  WUL  the  answer,  got  rid  of  it  "by  healthy  Z 
vdopments  in  favourable  conditions."  Yes 

T^lT^',.  '■f"™""''''--  conditions'"  iu 

«^.ch  the   hedthy  development "  will  be  inevitable? 
Mark  you,  ,t  cannot  be  done  by  education.  Pan 
was  an  educated  man,  and  of  .        fine  order  W 
he  ne^ed  soaaething  far  beyond  what  could  tept 
V  ded  by  the  3ch«.ls.    Let  us  make  no  mistake 
«,  we  are  not  going  to  purge  our  land  of  dn  by  a 
more  efflcant  system  of  education.    Why,  our  public 
school,  are  po^ible  cesspools.    Then,  is  not  a  re- 
master or  schoolmiatre™  anywhere  who  does  not  pat- 

s^  stem  to  keep  hfe  pure  and  sweet.   The  discipline 

control  he  not  that  may  be  raging  within.  Nor  i. 
fte  curr.culum  fitted  ,„  accomplish  much  more  than 

fl  T"  ";'  ""duly  build 

»P<»  the  tnfluence  of  our  schools  in  purifyiL  and 
<h«c..^  the  ener^es  of  our  youth,  an^  IZm. 
ing  them  m  a  aweet  and  whoIe«Kne  life.  Nor  are  wo 
gomg  to  do  it  by  the  oration  of  garden  cities  and  tie 
transfiguration  of  men's  material  sur«>undingl.  ii 
me  not  ^  misunderst^d ;  not  for  one  momenTwoufd 

W  mimstncs  .0  the  creation  of  a  larger  and  healthier 
lite    It  1.  the  knowledge  of  their  worth  which  has 
m.  to  seek  to  bring  into     ,  of  the  dingiest 
«ntH»  of  ,  great  city  wmething  of  the  light  and 


108     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

colour  and  wannth  of  finer  fellowships.    But  I  want 
to  labour  under  no  misapprehension.    We  may,  by  a 
more  favourable  environment,  diminish  crime  and 
at  the  same  time  only  change  the  accent  of  sin. 
When  a  man  ceases  to  be  a  drunkard  he  does  not 
necessarily  become  a  saint    Police  statistics  may  be 
reliable  guides  as  to  the  crime  of  a  city,  but  they  are 
no  criterion  of  its  moral  and  spiritual  health.  We 
may  diminish  the  city's  crime,  and  at  the  same  time 
utterly  fail  to  diminish  the  city's  sin.    Crime  is  just 
the  public  obtrusiveness  of  sin;  we  may  stop  the 
obtrusion,  and  the  crime  has  gone,  but  the  sin  itself 
may  hide  beneath  the  skin.    We  may  remove  the 
eruption,  and  leave  the  blood  defiled.    There  may  be 
no  drunkard  in  a  city,  but  sin  may  abound.    No,  the 
merely  fine  environment  will  leave  the  essential  virus 
untouched,  and  will  not  deliver  us  from  the  bondage 
and  wretchedness  of  indwelling  sin. 

Nor  do  I  think  that  altruistic  service  will  give  us 
the  desired  emancipation.    I  have  known  men  and 
women  who  have  gone  out  to  serve  their  fellows,  and 
in  the  service  their  hearts  have  been  dark  and  cold 
as  a  tomb,  haunted  by  ghostly  and  disturbing  pres- 
ences.   Men  go  on  to  public  bodies,  and  surrender 
their  strength  to  the  common  weal,  but  this  in  itself 
does  not  bring  the  freedom  they  seek.    All  these  are 
comparatively  favourable  conditions,  but  taken  alto- 
gether, and  alone,  they  will  not  deliver  the  life  from 
tiie  virus  of  sin.    Then,  "  O  wretched  man  that  I 
am,  who  shaU  deliver  me  out  of  this  body  of  death  ? 


WHAT  IS  SJNt 

I  thank  God,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord  »  I 
bring  you  to  that-the  reality  of  sin,  and  the  reality 
of  a  personal  Saviour.    "Through  Jesus  Christ." 
The  deln'.ranoe  can  be  effected  by  a  personal  cove- 
nant,  by  the  union  of  two  lives,  by  the  mutual  aurren- 
der  of  your  hfe  and  of  the  life  of  the  Prince  of 
Gk)ry  the  now  exalted  Christ  of  God.    Jesus  Christ, 
who  liberated  the  palsied,  who  freed  the  Magdalene 
w  alive,  exercising  universal  sway,  and  can  come 
into  vital,  revitalising,  emancipating  relationship 
with  every  child  of  the  race.    On  His  side  the  su^ 
render  IS  made;  «  for  their  aakea  I  sanctify  Myself  " 
and  when  on  our  side  the  surrender  ia  made,  and  the 
spiritual  union  is  consummated,  this  ia  the  jovful 
experience  in  the  sweet  conaciouaneaa  of  a  rede^ 

"He  breaka  the  power  of  cancelled  sia. 
He  sets  the  prisoner  Iwe." 


IX 


A  REGAL  CONSCIOUSNESS 

"Jesus,  knowing  that  the  Father  had  given  all  things  into 
His  hands,  and  that  He  ww*  come  from  God  and  went  to  God; 
He  riseth  from  supper,  and  laid  aside  His  garment*:  and  took 
•  towel,  and  girded  Himself.'WoHir  xiH,  3,  4. 

What  an  amazing  succession  is  here  revealed  I 
We  ascend  height  upon  height,  as  though  we  were 
climbing  some  towering  Alpine  range,  and  just  as 
we  reach  the  shining  culmination  we  seem  to  pass 
into  sheerest  commonplace  I    The  sequence  appears 
altogether  unworthy  of  its  antecedents.    We  are 
taken  along  a  road,  which  abounds  in  arresting  and 
awful  surprises,  to  a  most  ordinary  and  homely  issue. 
I'  Jesus  knowing  that  the  Father  had  given  all  things 
into  His  hands    nd  that  He  was  come  from  God 
and  went  to  God,"  having  this  superlative  conscious- 
ness, "knowing"  these  things,  what  will  He  do?— 
"He  riseth  from  supper,  and  laid  aside  His  gar- 
ments; and  took  a  towel,  and  girded  Himself  . 
and  began  to  wash  the  disciples'  feet."    The  suoce*- 
sion  almost  disappoints  us,  for  it  would  appear  as 
if  tne  tame  conclusion  does  not  justify  the  majestic 
premises.    Such  violence  would  never  be  the  device 
of  fiction ;  fiction  would  have  fashioned  a  more  con- 
genial consummation.    It  must  be  bom  of  the  stern 
and  inevitable  logic  of  life.   Jesus  of  Nazareth, 

110 


A  REGAL  CONSaoiTSNESS  m 

P«««ed  by  this  unique  .nd  spacious  consciousness, 
put  on  the  apron  of  the  slave,  nd  instinctivelv  ad- 
dressed  Himself  to  menial  aervioe. 

Now  in  this  succession  I  discern  a  yery  vitri 
principle.    We  need  something  of  these  anlSedeiit. 
If  we  would  have  something  of  these  consequents. 
Ab,g  ooiwciousness  is  the  primary  requisite  for 
^  «nd  dehcte  service.    It  is  the  small  artist 
who  always  pmes  for  big  canvas.  Turner  could  put 
the  infinite  into  a  square  inch.  The  wally  big  man 
can  be  at  home  in  small  spaces;  the  man  of  smaU 
make-up  wants  nothing  less  than  the  hoardimrs!  If 
you  want  fine  detail  in  anything  you  mj.Ta  fdl 
inan  to  produce  it.    Passion  is  needed  to  carve  a 
cherry  stone.    A  poet  of  vast  and  commanding 
consciousness  can  spend  a  whole  day  fashioning  the 
vowel-music  of  a  single  line.    We  /eed  great  m'ind 
for  lace-hke  ministries.    If  we  want  L  manners 
we  must  make  fine  men.    Tender  graces  belong  to 
men  whose  being  is  the  incarnation  of  grace.  Li, 
therefore,  I  am  proclaiming  that  the  order  of  this 

l^lZr  T.^""  ^'''^'''''^  coincidence,  but  a  vital 
and  blood-linked  succession.  The  roomiest  consciou^ 

Tr^ii*^  ^-^-t  serv- 

ices.    Jesus  knowing  that  the  Father  had  given  all 

God  and  went  to  God :  He  riseth  from  supper  "  and 

discharged  the  humble  duties  of  a  slave 

only  really  eflFective  way  to  foster  and  enrich  mutual 


"«     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

ministries  among  men  is  to  seek  the  enlaigeiiMiit  of 
tlieir  consciousness.  If  we  would  have  finer  «  doing  » 
we  must  seek  larger  "knowing."    A  man's  de- 
nwMiow  among  his  fellows  is  determined  by  the 
wnge  of  his  own  mystic  relationships.    What  is  the 
•cope  and  quality  of  his  coiMciousness?   How  does 
he  conceive  hia  lineage  and  his  kinships  f   Ir  'ae 
secret  sanctuary  of  his  own  soul,  with  whom  does  he 
claim  communion  ?    Answer  me  these  questions,  and 
I  can  infer  all  the  rest.    If  he  be  a  man  of  dwarfed 
^11  io"«i»e88  the  external  hospitalities 

wdl  be  artificial  or  denied.    Take  the  disciples  as 
tfiey  stand  unveiled  to  ns  in  this  very  chapter.  The 
doors  of  their  consciousness  are  thrown  open,  and 
we  are  permitted  to  enter  into  their  secret  place. 
And  what  do  we  find?   No  far^itretching  visUs  of 
noble  linkage  and  descent,  but  a  mean  prison  of 
petty  sell-conceit,  an  ambition  which  never  wimrs 
Its  way  to  a  distant  horizon.    They  are  men  ofa 
tiny  oonwionsneaa,  and  so  they  each  and  all  refuse 
the  servant's  taak.    We  require  a  consciousness  so 
extensive  and  glorious  that,  like  a  full  and  brimmirar 
spnng^tide,  easily  filling  every  creek  and  crevi^ 
along  the  varied  shore-line,  shall  spontaneously  enter 
mto  every  trifling  gap  of  human  need  and  ministry, 
•nd  fill  and  glorify  it.    "Jesus  knowing  "-there 
you  have  the  brimming,  tidal  consciousness-"  beean 
to  wash  the  discipW  feet  '>-and  there  you  havefhe 
oceanic  fulness  in  the  homel:  creek.    Expand  the 
oonaciousness,  and  you  will  fiU  the  oreeka. 


A  BEQAL  GONSaoUSNESS  lis 

Now,  it  ii  the  miMion  of  Chrifltianity  to  create 
*k  expanded  consciousness.    How  does 

tbeChnrtiMiwligionftod^,  It  finds  us  possessed 
of  a  consciouane*  which  i.  litUe  and  belittling. 
We  ha'-e  lost  our  real  and  vitaliaing  dignity,  a^d 
what  we  coin:„only  call  our  dignity  is  only  i  poor 
hUle  mushroom  growth  which  breeds  upon  theliot- 

Z  "  '  ;"^^^«*^-^-P  ••       dignity  sucks 

the  finer  di^i^.  «  Thia,  my  «,n,  is  dead  1 "  Dead 
to  wha  ?  Dead  to  his  own  «,n.hip:  it  i.  the  atrophy 
of  a  relationship.  "  This,  my  son,  is  dead  I  -  iLi 
particular  kinship  is  as  if  it  were  not;  there  i.  no 
communion;  it  is  as  if  the  wire  between  the  provin- 
c«d  centre  and  the  metropolis  were  cut  or  impaired, 
aU  commmucation  has  ceased.    "  This,  my  son 

work^  tL  k-  1r  '^'""'^  '''''''  - 

worked,  the  kinship  is  not  recognised,  the  life  has 

become  utterly  and  entirely  provincial,  of  the  eartL 

earthy  and  the  spiritual  metropolis  i.^^^^ 

noble  lineage  is  neglected,  and  human  life  toy.  wi" 

V:  dignities  which  liL  no 

bMcontnl   .on  its  service.    "  This,  my  son,  wm 

™  ofVwr"-"  -  'consd™ 

oTHXl  e  birth-movement 
Hp  J,.riJ     .  °  ^  ™         to  himself  I " 

mv  and  ""^^  ^  in 

pe  ty  and  unclean  communions  which  had  drained 

away  his  nobler  sentiments.   But  "when  hT^ 


114     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

come  to  himself  "-in  one  still  and  pregnant  hour, 

«  ^     ''^'^  Viovcing]y  cross-examined 

It--  Who  art  thou?    Thou  art  here  among  the 
swine,  famished  and  disquieted,  and  thou  wouldst 
fam  appease  xhy  cravings  with  the  husks  that  the 
swine  do  oat!    But  who  art  thou?    What  is  thy 
lineage?    Whose  blood  runs  in  thy  veins?  Wert 
thou  purposed  for  this  condition  and  for  this  com- 
pamonship  ?    Who  art  thou  ?  "    And,  in  response  to 
this  recovering  quest,  the  long-ebbed  tide  of  regal 
consciousness  began  to  flow  again,  and  the  powers 
of  a  long  neglected  lineage  were  restored.    And  the 
prodigal,  -  knowing"  his  pedigree,  "knowing"  his 
lathers  affluence  and  goodness,  and  "knowing"  his 
own  i)overty  and  shame,  said  to  himself,  "I  wiU 
arise,  and  go  to  my  father !  "    And  in  that  recovered 
lineage  the  atrophied  relationship  was  revitalised 
communion  between  the  metropolis  and  the  provinces 
became  operative  again,  spiritual  commerce  and  in- 
spiration were  brought  from  afar,  and  the  life  re- 
gained its  wealthy  and  protective  dignity.  The 
dwarfed  and  withered  consciousness  ^vered  the 
vast  and  healthful  energies  which  were  his  by  right 
ot  noble  birth.    You  have  it  all,  in  forceful  analogy 
m  Shakespeare's  story  of  the  lapse  and  recovery  of 
Prince  Hal.    AVhen  Prince  Hal  forgot  his  kingly 
lineage,  and  lived  and  moved  as  though  no  royal 
blood  coursed  in  his  veins,  he  became  the  boon  com- 
panion of  the  social  riff-raflF  of  his  day,  and  Falstaff 
and  his  revelling  boisterous  crew  afforded  congenial 


A  REGAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  115 

society^  The  king's  son  was  dead!    Ko  large  and 
flZ  t  '^^^^.^^^^^^P  «^^^«ted  his  ways  and  pn^ 
tected  the  punty  and  sweetness  of  his  intercourse. 
But  stride  on  to  the  further  unfoldings  of  the  great 
drama,  where  Prince  Hal  awakes  from  his  tfagic 
«  eep,  and  his  consciousness  expands,  and  in  the  now 
Illumined  country  of  his  soul  there  tower  the  W- 
edipsed  heights  of  his  own  lineage  and  nobili^. 
And  Prince  Hal  came  to  himself;  once  dead,  he  [s 
now  ahve  again!    And  mark  how  the  recovered 
^nse  of  great  relationships  purifies  and  chastens  his 
life.    It  ,s  with  him  as  with  the  prodigal,  the  swine- 
company  no  longer  aflFords  congenial  nutriment  for 

snitch  fT,  ""^'^  Me 
snatch  of  final  intercourse  between  Falstaff  and  the 

recovprprl  ortT, . 


recovered  son: 

Fal.      "Save  thy  grace,  Xing  Hal !  my  noble  Hal ! 

My  King!  my  Jove!  I  speak  to  thee,  my  heart!  » 

King.     "I  know  thee  not,  old  man:  fall  to  thy  prayers: 
How  ,1  white  haira  Income  a  fool  and  jeste" 
I  have  long  dreamed  of  such  a  kind  of  man. 
So  Burfeit  swelled,  so  old.  and  so  profane: 
But,  being  awake,  I  do  despise  my  dream. 

Reply  not  to  me  with  a  fool-bo'a  jest- 

Presume  not  that  I  am  the  thing  I  was- 

For  heaven  doth  know,  so  shall  the  world  peroeiT» 

2?  if, 

Bo  will  I  tboM  that  kept  me  company." 

ness  hallowed  and  refined  his  entire  life.    He  found 
pedigree-roll,  and  he  moved  like  a  kingi 


lie     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

Now,  the  Christian  religion  seeks  to  create  this 
vast  and  dignified  consciousness  in  the  minds  of  all 
men.    It  seeks  to  destroy  a  small  and  poisonous  self- 
conceit,  and  to  replace  it  by  a  splendid  self-esteem. 
OBrwtianity  comes  to  me  with  this  ennobling  min- 
istry.   It  says  to  me,  "  What  a  mean  little  conscious- 
ness thou  Hst !    Plow  near  is  thine  horizon  I  How 
low  is  thy  heaven!    Let  me  en^arr^e  thee !  "  That 
is  ever  the  mission  and  ministry  of  Christianity 
indeed,  one  might  say  that  the  whole  of  the  inspired 
word,  from  end  to  end,  is  the  kindly  minister  of 
enlargement    The  good  Lord  seeks  to  take  do^vn  the 
walls  of  our  mental  prison  house,  and  give  our 
souls  outlook  and  breathing-space  in  the  infinite 
And  how  does  He  do  it?    He  does  it,  first  of  all 
by  recalling  us  to  the  knowledge  of  our  pedigree- 
"this  my  son !  "    There  is  royal  blood  in  our  veins.* 
We  have  made  sorry  wrecks  of  ourselves,  as  indeed 
do  many  members  of  our  social  aristocracy,  but  I 
have  never  yet  gazed  upon  an  aristocratic  ruin  with- 
out discerning  some  birthmarks  of  an  original  dis- 
tinction; some  bit  of  a  capital  remained,  some  fine 
line  of  tracery  about  a  broken  window  or  a  half- 
demolished  porch-something  jrlorious  was  left  of  the 
original  glory.    And  so  it  is  with  the  aristocratic 
family  of  God:  in  our  ruin,  there  are  abundant  signs 
of  the  purposed  temple,  a  broken  fragment  here  and 
there  suggestive  of  the  grandeur  of  the  finished  pile  • 
but,  even  if  there  were  nothing  else  to  remind  us  of 
our  lineage,  there  is  the  neg^ectea  vpm  q£  oonscienoe 


A  REGAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  117 

moaning  over  the  ruin  like  the  wail  of  a  cold  night- 
wind.  But  be  aU  that  as  it  may,  the  Lord  comea 
to  U8  in  His  gracious  evangel  and  seeks  to  recall  our 
minds  to  the  vastness  and  splendour  of  our  forgotten 
kinships.  "  Thou  art  a  son  of  the  Almighty,  thou 
art  a  daughter  of  the  Almighty?  Are  these  fitting 
habits,  IS  this  a  suitable  attire?  Why  these  ra«t 
^^here  is  thine  imperial  purple?  Where  is  Thy 
kingly  stride  and  thy  splendid  yet  easy  demeanour? 

The  ox  knoweth  his  owner,  and  the  ass  his  master's 
cnb:  but  My  people  do  not  consider! '  Thou  hast 
forgotten  Me,  and  thou  hast  therefore  lost  thyself  I  » 
And  so  the  good  Lord  comes  to  tell  us  that  we  were 
never  purposed  to  be  the  imprisoned  victims  of  a 
small  ambition,  circling  gin-like  in  the  petty  round 
of  the  immediate  day,  but  to  step  out,  with  fine, 

T.'?'"!'..?'''^'"''^""  g^«"0"«  libert^ 

of  the  children  of  God."    Dost  thou  know  who  thou 

art?   Thou  art  the  kinsman  of  the  Almighty. 

Ransack  thy  pedigree  I    And  "knowing"  it,  what 
shall  be  thy  life?  *  ' 

"  Can  you  see  the  castle? "  I  once  asked  of  two 
humble  cottagers,  who  lived  in  a  little  house  not  far 
from  one  of  "  the  stately  homes  of  England  "  •  «  can 
you  see  the  castle  ?  "    And  they  answered  me :  «  Only 
n  the  winter  time! "    When  the  green  foliage  was 

Iti'     ^TV^'  -^'-^  the 

mpping  winter  began  to  strip  the  trees  and  lay  them 

^re  the  c^tle  came  into  view.  "Only  in  the 
winter  tune,"  said  my  humble  friend..  Lditi! 


118     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

when  the  foliage  round  about  our  life  is  thick  and 
plentiful,  and  we  are  embosomed  in  summer  fulness 
and  glory,  that  God's  castle  is  so  frequently  hidden 

J^'  "^^^  ^P^"*'^^^       the  eternal 

And  then  He  sends  an  apparently  cruel  but  kindly 
winter,  our  trees  are  stripped  and  bared,  and  in  our 
impoverishment  we  see  our  Father's  house!  "And 
here  arose  a  mighty  famine  in  that  land.  ...  And 
said  How  many  hired  servants  of  my  father!" 
The  castle  was  in  view!  O,  kindly  sable  ministry, 
that  opens  our  souls  to  the  Infinite  f 

But  we  need  not  wait  the  unveiling  calamity.  Let 
tTnuaT  f '  pedigree,  keep  it  by  us,  and  con- 
tinually rehearse  it;  let  us  con  our  lineage,  and 
nourish  a  holy  and  defensive  self-esteem.  Ld  let 
us  address  noble  affirmatives  to  our  own  souls.  «  Mv 
soul^  thou  hast  unutterably  great  relationships  I  The 
Lord  Almighty  thinks  upon  thee,  and  loves  thee,  and 
seeks  thy  company!    The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  thy 

ttlL  -ith  thee 

things  hidden  from  the  foundations  of  the  worldl 
Rise  my  soul,  and  humbly  claim  thy  destined  dig. 
nity!      And,  believe  me,  that  vast  and  ample 
sciousness  will  express  itself  in  gentle  and  kindly 

ZtTl  T  "  Josus  knowing 

that  the  Father  had  given  all  things  into  His  hands 

H«  -i^w^  ^''^"^  ^ent  to  God! 

an/,   u  ^"^^         His  garments, 

and  took  a  towel  and  girded  Himself,  and  began 
to  wash  the  disciples'  feet"  ^ 


LULLED  BY  HIGH  IDEALS 
.JnV  "*  *  ""'J       of  compwh 

"/  feneu;  that  Thou  art  a  gracious  God."  And 
when  that  is  the  indweUing  knowledge,  lying  in  the 
secret  heart  of  a  man,  what  will  he  the  character  of 
the  man  ?    "  I  knew  that  Thou  art  a  gracious  God." 
What  will  be  the  ethical  fruit  of  such  knowledge? 
What  may  we  anticipate  as  the  spontaneous  and 
shining  issue  of  such  convictions?    What  was  the 
practical  and  vital  logic  of  Jonah  himself?    Let  me 
prefix  the  preliminary  sentence  of  the  verse,  for  I 
have  only  given  an  amputated  limb.    Here  is  the 
full  body  of  the  apostle's  thought    "Therefore  I 
hasted  to  flee  unto  Tarshish,  for  I  knew  that  Thou 
art  a  gracious  God."    "  I  ignored  the  clamant  im- 
perative of  the  Eternal  will,  for  I  knew  that  Thou 
art  a  gracious  God!"    "I  knew  that  Thou  art 
.  .  .  f ull  of  compassion,  slow  to  anger,  and  plente- 
ous m  mercy";  and,  therefore,  "I  hasted  to  flee 
unto  Tarshish,"  even  though  the  voice  of  the  Eternal 
was  calhng  loudly  elsewhere,  and  Nineveh  was  speed- 
^  down  a  steep  path  of  degeneracy  to  moral  and 

m 


1*0     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

.piritu.1  do,-  h.    "  Arise,  go  to  Nineveh,  that  g«.t 
city,  and  cry  against  it:  for  tl.oir  wickedness  is  come 
T^r^r^    iL  "Therefore,  I  ha-ted  to  flee  nnto 
TMshtth  fo,  I  knew  that  Thou  art  a  gracious  God  " 
Ton  see  the  step,  of  his  reasoning.  Nineveh  is  most 
cert«n)y  needy.    Its  wickedness  is  portentous  and 
gl«nng.   Things,  bad  beyond  utterance,  gaily  pa- 
rade themselves  in  the  public  streets.  CorroX 
deepens  ,nto  intensified  filth,  all  the  filthier  that  it 
ledecks  Itself  with  an  artificial  grace.    Sorrow  hides 
in  silence,  uid  wrong  smothers  its  wails  for  fear  of 
deeper  TOong.   The  end  of  it  all  must-ah,  well  the 
end  of  .t      win  be  dl  right:  the  nngodi;  fe  m  „I 
wiU  issue  in  delicate  wine:  the  g,«»L  U  wU 

of  mght  wJl  be  changed  into  the  songs  of  the  men,. 
«gl  Nineveh  IS  bad,  but  then  the  Lord  is  good, 
«.d  in  His  gracious  keeping  I  confidently  entrust 
tte^lty  cuy.    Nineveh  is  needy!  but  "I  k^ 

eion  slow  to  «,ger,  «,d  plenteous  in  mercy,  and  re- 
pentest  Thee  of  the  evil"  .  .  .  «,nd  t^reW 
lasted  to  flee  unto  TarshishI "   Here  t  T^l  Z^ 
dinary  mental  succession;  a  gloriously  rid  .»noep 
toon  of  Deity  used  to  justify  a  flagrant  neglect  of 

S^L^^nltlrXef  — - 

r-ther^artHi^^viori^— ^^^^ 

ourlord's  parabfe.  He  .p«n.  out  .  man's  mind  an! 
reved.  to  US  quit,  i^^h.,  eonception  of  Dei,; 


LULLED  BY  HIGH  IDEALS  i«i 

the  one  upon  which  we  have  just  gazed.  «  J  knew 
T     I  almost  after  the  manner  of 

Jonah- 'I  knew  thee  that  thou  art  a  hard  man 
reaping  where  thou  hast  not  8o^vn,  and  gathering 
where  thou  hast  not  strawed."  And  what  will  be 
he  issue  of  such  conception,  a  conception  of  austerity 
and  tyranny-a  Pharaoh  on  the  throne?  "And  I 
went  and  buried  thy  talent  in  the  earth."  The  eon- 
ceptron  of  unjust  austerity  found  its  issue  in  moral 

rr/^^'  Ai^"""'"  ^''^'y      "«ed  to 

justify  a  deliberate  neglect  of  duty.    But  here  is  the 

amazing  coincidence,  that  the  issues  of  the  two  con- 
inW  1  ^7  conceptions  are 

unto  "Therefore  I  lysted  to  flee 

unto  Tarshish,"  and  duty  was  ignoredl    «I  went 
and  buried  thy  talent"  and  d^y  was  il^ 
yet  one  had  its  origin  in  tyranny,  the  otK 
ts.  or^n  in  grace.    There  must  be  something  rotten 
n  the  premise  when  there  is  something  so  unhallowed 
m  the  conclusion.    But  before  we  make  further 
quest  mto  the  ixK>ts  of  the  masoning  let  us  mark  t 
vital  connection  with  some  of  the%hought  of  our 
own  time.      Arise,  go  to  Nineveh !  "  ^JlZ 
o  the  foreign  field.    It  was  the  foreigner,  Te 

^^^r^jf'  '^^^^^  that 

men  had  to  deal  with  a  gracious,  ana  merciful,  and 
^I-compassionating  God.  « It  will  be  all  right  w"h 
the  Kinentesl   The  «^rd  of  Damocles  is  not 


1««     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

pended  above  them!  Their  sky  is  not  black  with 
iiMnnent  stonn,  pregnant  with  the  thnnders  and 
lightnings  of  an  outraged  God.  Their  sky.  like 
ours,  ,s  brimming  with  grace,  and  His  banner  over 
thm  ,8  b^.  There  is  nothing  urgent  in  their  eon- 
ditionj  ^'He  ,8  slow  to  anger  and  plenteous  in 
merey.  We  can  go  leisurely  about  our  ministries : 
there  is  no  call  for  haste  I 

I  ask  you— is  there  not  something  modem  in  the 
ancient  reasoning?    Let  us  look  at  the  practical 
logic  by  which  our  conduct  is  determined.    A  hun- 
dred years  ago  men  held  very  diflFerent  conceptions 
of  the  needs  and  perils  of  the  foreign  field  to  those 
whu^h  are  commonly  held  to^ay.    The  conception  of 
God  was  more  awful,  more  austere,  more  severe.  The 
conception  of  hell  was  more  appalling,  irreparable, 
full  of  final  destruction.    To  be  ignorant  of  God 
was  to  be  lost.   The  ueatheri-the  men  of  I^ineveh^ 
were  regarded  as  sliding,  I'n  countless  multitudes 
into  an  inevitable  and  hopeless  hell.    Men  used  to 
make  appaUing  calculations,  and  they  would  alarm 
their  audiences  by  telling  them  how  many  were 
passing,  with  every  tick  of  the  dock,  into  imtnev- 
able  perdition.    The  state  of  the  foreign  field  was 
looked  upon  with  all  the  urgency  with  which  we  look 
upon  a  rudderless  and  broken  ship,  held  in  the  grip' 
of  mighty  tempestuous  seas,  with  man  after  man 
dropping  numb  from  the  rigging  into  the  engulfing 

fr;.  ^  ^"""^^  life-boat  work! 

and  the  boat  was  launched,  and  men  went  out 


LDIXED  BY  HIGH  IDEALS  m 

W  of  i,        U„  ^..i^      i,  whet  the 'lit 
bo.tn,cn  came  a,ho«  .g,i„,  ^  ™ 
»alva.«„,  effected     f^j  ^  J 

so  wheu  ,„en  are  drowning,  a^ir  „viou«  ^d 
upon  .he.  ^  ^  ^  ^  ^  ^J^ 

Bnt  Mw  in  many  ways,  for  better  or  wor»  tie 
ftonght  .f  the  Chn«=h  ha,  changed.    We  ha 

P*r  I  out  of  the  deep.    We  no  longer  th'-nl.  of  the 

aU  .r  f  t  ''"P  ^«»'  "»  riggii*  .t 

etr^U'lT;."''lX«''«  T'  '«"^*^ 

trtt:tp^oJ— ^^^^ 
ir^tr:^-— ^^^^^ 

empaasis  has  changed;  we  know  that  "  TT«  ; 
has  gone  out  JT^  "-«"«^  ^"t. 

«omBg  wiuch  18  oommonljr  prevalent 


I«*     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHORCH 

in  our  ,  ^^^.^  ^ 

w»7  cna  of  the  proWem,  and  let  us  root  out  .!,„ 
loo«  and  rotten  element,  in  the  reuonC  I«  feir 
n..ght.er  than  graee,  and  ioes  it  endow  Z^^'^ 
fleeter  and  stronger  wing,  !    "I  k„,„  4^.,  ^™ 
a  gr.c,o„s  G.^,.    He  icnew  Httle  or  noS^ing  "b^m 
tt    That  IS  the  hiatus  in  his  reasoning.  Th^t 
the  rrttennea,  in  Us  eonelusion.   He  knew  Ttt  ' 
or  no,h,ng  about  the  grace  and  ^ercy  of  t  j  Uri 
He  had  an  opinion  about  it  hnt  k    t  , 
e.i>eri™enta>  LwledgT:;  i^  e^eUngld^inst" 
.ng  power.    "IW!"   He  WM  ™W 
wora  with  painful.,  s„perfle.^,Tert^ 

unite.      If  a  n,„  j 

o.h™  .now.\Xn::i:^.:l-I-- 
«  wt.  !r""^  ''P'™"'"'  »f  ">e  AposUe  pS 

to  be  loi  for'  J  '  T  ^'  ^ 

nf  .,11  .I,-     ^  .  ^  I  suffered  the  loa. 

that  I  n«.y  W  Himl"   The  superlati*  'g,;^ 


LULLED  BT  HIGH  IDEALS  m 

^ch  .w.i„  h™  i„  the  beatific  light  i,  tU^  «  Th« 
•lufl  I  know  even  as  also  I  am  known." 

A  weU-.rr.nged  theology  may  fc^  like  a  herbalisfa 
iry  museum,  a  religion  experi««»  h..  ,i^f"^ 
I.fe  and  beauty  and  frag,.«e  of  ,  «well  „te^ 
garden."   To  h.ve  really  known  the  gra^^!^ 

Pleaaut  «.d  «freehing  inspiration.  And  the"  ^ 
^  •»«  ™.-k-I  think  it  is  the  hall-mark  „p!n  aS 
tte  grace-blest  children  rf  God,  that  they  are  k^:f 

.r.'T  "k-x-W  rf>«e  their  ex^rilS^ 

«.d  should  ™.m  an.  feed  in  the  g«Jen  of  .S^^' 
souls  delight.   The  grace-bles«d  child  c«  „Z 


Tliia  ie  hia  cry  to  thoae  without,  "I  sat  doom 
"Jder  his  trees,  and  he  h«  artiaiied  'my  mol 

fod!        Taste  and  see!"   And  why?  Beean- 

«.  th.s  sphere  the  taster  becomes  the^  adv^. 
Tl»  e^penmentalist  becomes  the  herald.  TheX 
^  l«»me,  the  apo«Ue.  inevitably  and  J^nt^ 

I  «u  a»t  .£,«d  «f  ,  h™id««l  o«n«^on  rfa^ 


»«•    THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHUHCH 

love  .„d  grace  of  the  Lord  if  only  ra«i  w  In  ft. 
I«rd  »  garden  .„d  living  on  His  fruit.  Cry^ 

^I»^.^aionev.„howi,Ig„o„ti„t„ti:rS^ 
w«y>  Md  hedge,,  mtent  on  multiplying  the  euel 

*<>rW.  E.te«  grwe  miAw  one  hungry  for  service 
Missionary  work  will  need  no  u,5ng  wll  .t 
Chu-h  takes  her  meals  at  the  enrich^^|  ^y^. 
makmg  table  of  the  Lord.   What  I  do  fe«  l.T.t 

f  """"'^  theoretieal  and  drugging 
conceptim  of  grace  whieh  makes  us  easy  .bouf  thf 
needs  and  peril,  .f  Nineveh,  and  whieh^^r^l..:  the 
.hews  and  s.news  .f  .  ^     /  "^<-'  ^« 

''''^  -"'7  of  our  di«ipleshi;  by  ^ 
.nten  ,ty  of  our  apostleship.  Let  ™  mei^  o» 
knowledge  of  grace  by  the  quality  nf  our  !!^^e°^ 
towards  Kinevph     «  Tr,       •  .  i  entimonts 

Jew  no,  0^1^.   J,"  ?T  " 

♦l-  _       T     ,   .    " '"^  I^rd  loves 

^^r«^  '•■-kthonghtwellofGod.andn^e:^ 

'""ohlh*'  """"."^ -f"-" 

clo-ing  Z  ds-   -  »  the«,  ftree 

S  woras.      J  lie  second  time  "   That  fj-j 

d.ould  g,ve  us  a  .^eond  ehanee!    The  me^  rflf 
tame.       Ar«e,  g„         Nineveh,  and  preach  I" 


LVtUSD  BT  mOH  IDEALS  m 

H  '"J"' heeded  it,  they  absorb 
^^ajs,    tJiev  set  their  Hin.mo»^ 

P^pk  had  l«n  aeoretly  wearying  f„r  God.  A^d  i. 
«*  the  comcidence  modem?   With  all  my  «„d  r 

,h.t  the  ««„t  heart  of  ,he  people 
u«  for  our  iMd  lad  chmt 


XI 

THE  DOOM  OF  NINEVEH 

The  book  of  Nahura  is  a  little  book,  boand  m 
w.  lun  the  covers  of  the  Old  Testament  and  pJ 
ably  th   „.j„rity  of  „s  k„„„      little  'about 
^  do  of  8^„e  antiquated  State  document  crumblin. 

lUtle  book  .8  2,600  years  old,  and  yet  it  i,  by  „o 
moans  mouldy  or  n,o„ldering.    P„t'i.  .We  ty^,  ™ 
wuh  a  chapter  of  Carlyle'a  "French  Bevoliio< 
and  there  ,s  nothing  fusty  about  it,  nothing  yell„; 
withered,  or  obsolete.    Indeed,  I  J^CZ' 

« jore  modem  than  our  daily  press,  and  if  you 
«.u^d  compare  it  with  the  very  last  chapter  ^f 
Bnush  h..to,y,  „  written  by  tie  recordinfaug^ 
.  himself  you  would  see  .t  once  that  it  is  ouite  uX 
date.    And,  therefore,  I  do  m  hold  „p  Wo^ Ton 
Wtweeu  finger  and  thumb,  a  ragged'«mUt' 

mthe,^  a  fresh  leaf  from  that  book  of  life  who« 

contmned  story,  with  all  its  tragedy  and 

we  are  bnsy  writing  to^Iay.  Judgment, 

And  what  ia  the  Httle  book  about  ?   It  tells  rt,» 
graphic  story  of  "the  decline  and  fdl  •>  of  n1"  ,  t 
that  great  world-pewer,  with  it.  «»thing 


THE  DOOM  OF  NINEVEH  1*9 

treasure 5  ol  tlie  tarn.    T  am  r,r.f  <>    r  t  , 

i        ,  so  foolish  as  to 

.tt^mp,  ,.,  ,h„w  obso  analogies  between  ^Za 
.»dB„  .,n.    The  pardlefe  cannot  iK>  drawn 
many  annilarife  the«  ,«  f„„da,„ental  Itti 
contrasts  ,„  religion,  ;„  ™  ™  2 

•Mual.t,  of  patriot,™,,  and,  no.  kaat,  «  n 
tha  „„,  ,„e  „f  ^  J 

Bnta.n  iron,  all  ,l,e  ro»t  of  ,|,e  world.  And  yet  Z 
canae,  winch  have  bnilt  or  mined  empires  h„M  and 

n  other  days  have  consumed  the  secret  strength  of 
he  ,nd,v,dnal,  are  fierce  and  corrosive  still.  And 
hcreiore  ,t  wil,  „„t  he  ill-apent  time  if  we  pTn' 

in  .  dio  rf  "  "'^^.'^-»'«  »Pon  the 

sin  m,d  fo  ly  of  a  great  in.perial  state. 

What,  then,  was  the  moral  condition  of  mnereb 
as  .t  .a  portrayed  for  ns  in  this  little  book?  mire 
.a  one  parage  brief  and  pregnant,  swif.  as  a  ligl^ 
mng  flash,  and  in  it  Wvid  gleam  fonr  thing,  f„d 
revealed  and  named:  "lies,"  "robbery"  "Jl 
crafts,"  and  "  iiltl,  »  „  j  •  witch- 
terlnJ  '  """^  "  "  """"d  about  these  fe»- 

cnng  presences  that  the  propl,,.,  beholda  the  gatto" 
".g  forces  of  doon,.         „  „,^„,  «»«»'^ 

It  .a  net  without  suggestion  that  the  wor,l  which  i, 
thus  trans ated  "lie." 

has  heeom.        ■  .  ,      ''8"'S<'^  "  Presence  which 
l^^me  emaciated  and  thin.   Truth  is  no  longer 


ISO     THE  THANSMGDHED  CHURCH 

Mlid ;  it  ia,  become  a  veneer.  Goodness  is  no  longer 
TJZ,  -'>-P'''t«l-  Rectitude 

hnman  affairs,  a  moral  osmetic.    Tmth  haa  Wme 

Mn.  I  .s  no  l„ngc.r  profound.  It  is  ,  superficial 
*-n,  and  not  a  cnbical  reality.  Truth  is  acted,  it  is 
no  longer  l„yd.  It  i.  a  graceful  form,  and  not  a 
dependable  spirit.    It  i,  a  well-dressed  cou^ 

ZT  r.  "r""*'  -  and  gruesome  as  th^ 

tomK    Yes,  ,u  old  STineveh  truth  had  become  very 
fh.n.    And  this  emaciation  had  been  primarily  pro- 
d "ced  by  two  things.    First,  by  the  ^ecd  of  gL 
Wh  always  makes  men  specious,  and  plausible,^  nd 
tnely,  ,„em„g  them  to  any  manner  of  outward 
mess  ,u  ,ho  .nferests  of  prosperous  enterprise.  Yes, 

^.rin  l-esenoe  in  the  Assyrian' 

mwtos.    And  the  second  cause  of  her  emaciation 

s  head  that  fine  feathers  do  make  fine  birds  and 

hold  of  the  hues  of  the  kingfisher,  and  the  homdy 
crow  ad  pick«l  up  the  peacock's  plumes,  and ts 
most  laboriously  acquiring  its  strut  and  stride! 
And  thus  society  had  become  unnatural,  artificial, 

truth  had  fallen  in  the  street" 
™Mc™  "'°m  "'f  f  "     ^  of  »<! 

wUl  be  wrought.   The  two  o«.a«t  be  diyororf. 


THE  DOOM  OF  MNEV  EH  131 

When  truth  becomes  thin,  life  wiU  become  cruel 
Enthrone  -artifice  and  you  stupefy  conscience.  When 
we  lose  the  sense  of  the  beauty  of  truth  we  lose 
our  sense  of  the  grandeur  of  right;  and  with  the 
sense  of  right  goes  the  recognition  of  rights,  and 
hfe  becomes  a  cockpit,  a  weird  scene  of  moral  chaos. 
I  hat  IS  a  sequence  as  sure  and  inevitable  as  any 
succession  in  the  realm  of  matter.    Let  falsehood 
reign  in  businesa  and  in  manners,  and  most  assuredly 
hie  will  become  harsh  and  hard,  and  the  weakest 
m  the  land  will  become  the  helpless  victims  of  raw 
injustice  and  oppression. 

"Woe  to  the  bloody  city,  it  is  all  full  of  lies,  and 
robbery,  ...  and  is  Ihe  mistress  of  witchcrafts," 
That  IS  to  say,  she  acknowledges  no  abiding  moral 
soverj^ignty.    The  moral  decrees  are  as  capricious  as 
herself    There  is  no  unchanging  imperative,  as 
irresistible  as  the  march  of  the  stars.    And,  there- 
fore she  resorted  to  spells  and  enchantments,  and 
witchcrafts,  and  she  enthroned  her  own  trickery  and 
artificality  m  the  seats  of  the  highest.    There  was 
nothing  steady,  nothing  dependable,  nothing  sure. 
Her  moral  world  was  a  world  of  chance  and  caprices 
and  everything  would  be  «  as  luck  would  have  it."  ' 
And  the  last  item  unfolded  in  this  dark  portrayal 
of  natural  life  is  the  widespread  presence  of  "  fUth  " 
You  can  expect  no  other.    With  life  conceived  as 
Li!rf^*^'  "''^  everything  a  lottery,  and  truth 
emaciated  to  mere  pretence,  and  cruel  injustice  ramp- 
ant, j^ou  majr  surely  expect  an  aggressive  animalism 


1S«     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

to  rido  triumphantly  through  the  stato    «t  • 
pthereth  iniquity  unto  itself'  dLTnls  df^^T 

But  w,.h  .to  "lies,"  and  "robbery,"  and  "wit.h 
crafts,"  and   "  ituu »  at-      .  witch- 

uruiai     as  was  ever  suffered  tn  v^ii  j? 
equipment  of  the  ancient  world  V 

^.i.^b,L;/s.aS'L'»»;:j-<-^^^^ 

«»h  fl«m„g  torehe,"  rushing  along    he  r^d^ 

word,"  and  "glittering  spear"!    A„H    '  ■,  ^ 
spoil,  spoil  of  silver  and^p^f  of  goldl  Z'^H 

"iliM?  Me  Lord 
WBat  lias  thia  littl^  i„        ,1'  ^im ! 

tell  us  abot^  H*'  wS^\"'tr""  '^7™'  " 


THE  DOOM  OP  NINEVEH  las 

m.  iMf  up  prominent  above  everything  else  in 

»nd  aU  the  heated  .rtifioial  hun-yi,^  „£  t„c  „i.y 
VUat  stnke,  me  «  the  exlnwrdinary  divene^s  of  the 
e  ™l  God.    The  (M  of  Nah™  i.  „,  J 
<le.t.y  al«,f  „„d  apathetic,  dweUing  afar  off  in  the 
lotus-land  of  a  distant  heaven.    Mark  tl«.  prophet'! 
phrase^Iop  which  describes  this  extraordinary  alive^ 
"e«  of  the  eternal  God:  "God  is  jealous";  "the 
lord  revengeth";  "the  Lord  hath  His  way  in  he 
wh^riwand  and  in  the  atom,,  and  the  clouds  a^  he 
dust  of  His  feet";  "He  rebukeU,  the  sea,  and 
make.h  u  dry,  and  drieth  up  all  the  river.; 
angu,sheth  and  Carmel,  and  the  flower  of  I«b.Z 
kngjt^heth  ";  "the  .nountains  quake  at  HiJ^^ 

^1  1  procession  of  the 

Eternal  round  about  their  gaudy,  seedy,  glittering 

Lady  Macbeth  was  creeping  about  her  bloody  work 
m  Duncan's  chamber.  But  come  nearer  stiU.  '<  Tl» 
lord  IS  furious:  the  Lord  will  take  vengeMKe  on 
H«  adveraaries  ",  "  Who  can  stand  before  ^  Z 

hHI  .t""*        '"^  '""'^^  -  ""e  fiercness  of 
H.8  anger  f"    Yon  may  call  that  anthropomorphic 
rf  you  W.U.    Ton  may  make  whatever  diLun7y^ 
God"!.^!  r  ""«''*"'"«-       not  a  paint  d 
mord  n    ',      T  ?  •»  »«1  >™n  and 

P«8sage  m  the  very  next  vene,  such  a  ftu^  m  I 


13*     "THE  TRANSMGDHED  CHURCH 

trouble;  and  He^we^ 7  ^.°." 
We  all  Seel  thfaoft^^  H™-" 
W  ™le«  te  ^'0-  And 

is  li,e  ,he  .e^iulflaJt 

the  vine  ..rC  r  J'°'^'-  """^ 

wot  neve;     '^f  «^ 

.  ile  could  never  love     Tf  rx^j 

tnfle  with  esin  Tr^  •      •  .  -'^  ^'Oa  can 

— 1 1  r^;''^    ■■f  -   If  God 

white  throne  "l.ri     ""'  '^'""^  "  ™  "«««t 

attitude  to  sin  in  wajs  which  t  S^Tt 
forget,  and  they  are  fes'  °<  T  .1  ? 
"  I  will  make  thy  grave  TJ  tl,       .  T""  ""^ '  " 
the  God  of  Ju/JZ  ll  ^^''''.:''  '2'^"  Snoh  i, 
ci^.  °»d«t  of  the  imperial 

Now  look  at  the  working  out  of  tl,.  ,•  j 
nn'^eiled  by  the  prophet  Nahl     T  ^ 
with  the  apparent  leiaurelin^  J;  J  "'^''''^ 
I«rd  is  slow,"  criea  ZlTi  !  "  "^^ 

fire  of   ud^Tnt    "So  '  ^'"^  " 

-t  does  no?  le^lta  the!X  ofXn'."it  '"^ 
^  the  l«=„st  and  the  .^r^^l"^^- 


THE  DOOM  OF  NINEVEH  135 

thee  up  like  the  cankerworm."    See,  then,  the  slow 
sure  process  of  tlie  judgment.  ' 
It  first  eats  away  the  wits.    "  Thou  shalt  be 

^"^rT  ,  '  ^^'^  ^^^PPe^^  in  the 

individual  hfe,  when  the  long-continued  process  of 
sin  has  deprived  a  man  of  his  wits,  and  he  has  lost 
the  sense  of  moral  drift,  and  he  no  longer  realises 
where  he  is  or  whither  he  is  going?  So  shaU  it  be 
with  states  and  empires.  "  Thou  shalt  be  drunken  " 
Ihe  wages  of  sin  is  a  certain  stupefaction.  "  The 
lord  ^hath  poured  upon  them  the  spirit  of  a  deep 

TL  a  ''''  in  the 

wicked  days  before  the  flood.  They  were  eating  and 
drinking  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage,  until  the 
day  that  mah  entered  into  the  ark,  a  J  key  W 
not.  The  sins  of  a  people  induce  a  spirit  of  sleep. 
Ihey  become  numb  to  the  lessons  of  history.  Thev 
become  blind  to  the  sig..s  of  the  times,  and  they 
b^me  deaf  to  the  sound  of  the  approaching  judi 
rnent  whose  d^riots  are  even  now  rumbling  acroS 
lnd?!;":ieep^^-^™--^thi 

But  in  this  process  of  judgment,  not  only  are  the 
wits  consumed,  the  cankerwonn  also  eats  awly  ^ 
empire  s  masculine  strength.  What  fearful  irony 
M  m  the  prophetic  challenge:  "Where  is  the  lion, 

St  Tl  u^^"'  "  lion-element 
•cter?   Eaten  away  by  the  cankerwonn  of  judg- 


1«8     THE  TRANSFIGUHED  CHUBCH 

ment.    Nineveh  retained  the  lion',  dan  ud  rt. 

l>on'»  roar,  bnt  i,  I,ad  Jost  the  lion,  andtVtv  ^ 
U  was  revealed  a,  weak  ani  timid  .7. t^^' 
Weh  could  not  retain  the  lion-Iike  virtue^ 
~«imon.  of  Wseho^i,  „bber,,  witchcraft  Ind  filtL 

it  2n  Sonc.  "And 

:^efrll:;:.^^Bi!f:.'f,^vr'°"''r 

i-»e  eo^in,  da,  face  orB^Lsh  rp^.^' 

nn^''  V^",  '^"^  P'-''«-odcd  apace 

nnt,l  ,„  the  Jong  ,„„  tie  material  defence,  nrotS 
as  flimsy  as  a  paper  diield    TT..  „  ii  ^ 
at  tl,„  f„  -Her  walls  were  softened 

at  the  foundations,  and  her  in;<rf,>„  „  i 

-Ble^th  4^„,^^Jjn^^^^^^^^ 

ra;^^^r:t«.X"^^^^  Td 

waste  I  "  -Wmeyeh  is  laid 

She  hath  met  her  doom  f 

What  significance  has  all  this  for  thee  and  n,.» 

Even  this.    To  warn  na  +^  *  •    V          ^  ™®  * 

o  warn  U8  that  clean  habits  are  a  finer 


THE  DOOM  OP  NINEVEH  187 

defence  than  strong  walls.    To  warn  us  to  erect  the 

and  to  build  by  its  counsel.  To  warn  us  to  "seek 
hrst  that  righteousness  which  alone  exalteth  a  na- 
tion. To  .'arn  us  to  seek  our  strength  and  treasure 
m  noble  character.  Its  significance  is  to  warn  us 
to  play  the  real  man  if  we  would  abide  unshaken. 

"The  tumult  and  the  shouting  dies: 
The  captains  and  the  kings  depart: 

sun  stands  thine  ancient  sacrifice, 
A  humble  and  a  contrite  heart. 

Lord  God  of  Hosts,  be  with  us  yet. 
Lest  forget— lest  we  forget." 

"Far-called,  our  navies  melt  away: 
On  dune  and  headland  sinks  the  fire. 
lo,  all  our  pomp  of  yesterday 

Is  one  with  Nineveh  and  Tyre! 
Judge  of  the  nations,  spare  us  yet, 
I«t  forget— lest  we  forget" 


XII 

SOUND  IN  PATIENCE 
"Sound  in  patience.»-TiTU8  ii.  2. 

Well,  now,  how  should  we  stand  this  farm  f 

were  to  busy  itself  wif h  f       ^  J«<lgment 

^  ^  abundantly  evident  that 

lltA 


SOUND  IN  PATIENCE  iff 
credal  soundness  may  coexist  with  diseurf  .»J 

™»»e".  A  man  may  contend  for  a  fine  orthodoxy 
^th  .  temper  which  re  veals  hi„,  ,„  W  a  boor  And 

»en  who  boast  of  their  hete«doxy;  they  up„o« 
the.r  heterodoxy  with  a  bitte»e«  „d  .  virrnl 
wh.oh  n,ake  i,  very  clear  that  bro«l  ti«^ri« 

«d  una  tractive  vintage.    And  therefore  do  1„t 

r    "iigui  oe  the  lot  of  many  who  are  nroud 
«f  their  ecdesi^rtiod  ..midnes,.    The  pages  oHis 
tory  have  made  the  eccIe.u«tio>'  temnTr^ot! 

invart^lv'.i  ^''\«f'f' '"^"'"I  tetlefleld  i, 
r^^i ^4  of  short  and  h,^ 

Ir.^  ■'"P'-y  °f  ""e  unsonndn™ 

the  possession         .     ""^'"""^        »  « 
STo-T  r  invincible  patience 

jTt^r,'''"?"  "-""^'^  l«en'd2Tbed 
■^'Ote.     And,  mdeed,  he  is  worthy  of  the 


'«>    THE  TRANSPIGUHED  CHUHCH 

own  life.  Hei,  ,;        u  *    *"       ""oWng  hu 

t™»I..-o„aZI"*r.;7'  f'-'-^'-'lv  broken 

"ften  infe,         r  ;  They  we« 

very  life.     a„,,  "'"<^''  ■■""sunied  tlieir 

"'h  'te  blind,  cl„m»y  blow,  3?!!  ^  ^T' 

the  quiet,  diseriLn  ,  ;    and  „T 
This  man,  more  tUr.       .  ^  *  surgeon. 

«'en,  was  competent  '""i       "'"'"'^  ^'^^^'^o^* 

to  <^i-ipline  tW,,^ri  fellow-believers 
tienee."  "soundness  of  pa- 

let  us,  therefore,  loot  »  ih.i 
"««e.    Tl,i,  virt,  ;  of  o  ,  '         """^'^  "  "» 
ei<ed  in  season,  o   wai  inf  tT  " 
l."dea,  and        oxaltg  Lrdt  T"*'"^ 
the  rarest  form  of        *  ^  suppose  that 

oompelled  ^  stffl  ?^  '^''P>md  when  we  are 
which  wo  oanl   'l""!!,"-  '"-PPening  in 

the  tension  and  bring  X  b«  r 

"ig  relief,  but  action  is  impossible 


SOUND  IN  PATlmcE 


141 

We  hare  an  example  of  this  in  the  awf„l  ^  • 

calamity  which  has  recently  de.oL^sol  7"'""^ 
in  the  United  Stat.s     It  ^'^'"'^ 

eo.ra,e  ana  .ne  ^ind  o/UZ^to^L^^/ 

men  alive    R,.*  ""^'"^  ^^^^  Juried 

inen  alive.    But  tho  uomen  abovo,  the  wives  of  tK 

^yP-^  patience  .Td  ^nrZ  i  r  T'^'^^  '  ^"^^ 
When  ,ne  n.anajs' aTeT:  i^IeS^^^^^ 
Sl  a  shed  -.,forthepo.,r^X":^^:! 
covered  men  and  fo  prepare  bedding  avd  iojZ 
temble  tension  ^\  as  rplinw..!      i      ^  * 

in  ministry    It  \«  f««»<i 
imwry.    «  is  the  same  in  the  life  of  a  soW.'*., 
The  acutest  strain  is  not  in  th.  .'^^^  "r^'®'- 

»f  a  serial  IZl^'l';  ™  "«  »  ««  nuto 
It  is  when  a  Zj  ««"™™ilion  i,  ,pe„t. 

one  hJ'gZ'Tl:^'  ""r""-       "         "  -J™' 
gone  astray,  and  we  can  think  of  rmfi  • 

fold,  and  there  Shan  K:  "'\  f 

,  .na  tnere  shall  be  1,0  herd  in  the  stalU;  jret 


1«     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHUHCH 

will  I  rejoice  in  the  lonj  T  ~;n  ■     .  . 
m  salvation."  TiisT»' 

mark.  An  imnatimt  I...  ^™  *  ""y  erratic 
»  life;  patience  is  J  P'iwipie 

™-l/in''i„r„f  rWdt;„f        """^  »p 

Wo  in  wh  erthr^  r  r° 

-rtth  «  eLiTen:.'"*'™"" 

i»  no  en,  who  rfl        ^  fPP™'"^  mysferKs. 
»ot  entered  Z  t^k  Z^'u^'''-'^  "  ^" 

presence  of  immS         a    V  ^  ""^  ''"'■densome 

;»thepre,encrr:f^,:;X.'frir'^t 


SOUND  IN  PATIENCE  i4g 

the  great  pressing  problems  „f  human  U^r^  i 

moments  and  enmriK         •    .  "P  "* 

««de  .gain     ™Z  ''L    T-""^'  **'»™ 

these  thinra.  tW  «  7        ""^  """e"  drop 

her  vital  faitl,  in^thTclT:  f^"*" 
E>™e.  dropped  ^TuitZ'T 
celerity.    I  iie„_^  .  almost  equal 

these  vLtrZw:?"^.'?^"^-^  ^--forth 

page,  f„„  c:,^  t  S'^y'r;  «■» 

'»  'he  young  peopfeTj^  ^S..  ilt '° 

of  mysterv  and  t„  P««ent  in  the  presence 

™e  of  the  ;^a"  i„,t        °  " 

P«tienoe  itself  i,  ■!        *°  '"^S^* 

"^Nve  ^  rec^^tC  kd'th^:  ^ 
P"ve,  and  that  the  very  poMMiion 


1**     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

lee  one  month's  hsstv  °' <"™'   Do  not 

tie  ".di^eove^  i™^''"!  T  y»«'  „p„„ 

feet  work."    "  ''«™  •"»■  Pe-- 

purple  h.,  been  suddenff  m  Z  ed  ^7' 
of  fond  work  Iiiu  j  ,  '™*'""ed-    Some  bit 

apt  to  kindle  iS^  \         '^"«PP»i»tment  is 

con,„n:«i.    When  IZZ  '^^ 

tioB  M  apt  to  !«.  ,1         ?  "«oI»- 

derin^  indifferen '    r!  ^        "  ™ouI- 

and  inspiring  bioCTanhT  TI,*  u    ?  " 
career  is  sp<?,ed  to  of 

I  remember  reading  the  1^  „f  p  "'l'' 
whom  his  bioffranbl   .  Pnneipal  Hainy, 

Ne»m«,  as  thTI  '"^  «'«*«»ne  «,d 
*e  latter  half  rf  1?  °  """"^  i« 
that  one  of  the  'tl"T  ^ -'PP"- 

when  the  H„^  Turl  ZT      """"^^  '™ 

api^aicasebereTftt^^*^  i'-'r-' 

«  Of  the  United 


SOUND  IN  PATIENCE 


Its 

m..u«d  power,  had  been  eo«ec™.ed  in  promoting 
vital  and  corporate  union  between  hia  oto  Chnmf 
«.d  tie  United  Presbyterian  Church  Tsc^SL 

mtire  mtenj  t,„tage  of  the  Free  Chur-h-its 
oknwV  it,  nuuue,,  it,  college,,  its  fnnds  Th. 

rj",  *"  "-e  ga 

ndgment  against  the  United  Free  Church  and 
^e^fore  againat  Dr.  RUny.   It  seemed  JtL^ 

-Lie  was  m  the  Lords  when  ludirment 

Zfh:t  ^Tr'^'-^vMr.Haidj::^^' 

ine  way  home  Rainy  never  spolte  a  word  Wh™ 
they  reached  home  he  «t  down  and  then  ,nt.y  I  ° 

,  "0  tattemeM,  no  unholy  fire  I  "I 

the  floor  let  ™  .   J^,^  ^  •  '"""^  ™«  upon 
«  .  further  appUcation,  let  ».  thrt 


J««     ™E  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

need  a  "  sound  patienr-P  "  .-^  *i. 

ing  progress.    ThiZL  l  it'  ^'^^     «  ^^^'^ 

*o  r-^.    Or,  the/a^r  "^'?^"^^-»**hezn 

tofljl   We  hear  on!     !i  them 
^ one  another  sav  "Tk*      i  . 

fMt  enough  for  me  I"  Or'-rT'  >1»°'*  go 

»e  '  "   And  we  beon™.  •  •.    .'"^  for 

''e  lose  the  very  ^pirhLT^  ?  P"''^"'^* 
How  true  this  ia  in  ™ 

8«»ed,  ^  X  hav^  Lttt^     °  ^'■^'-'y 

P««ent  with  thl  I  ToM  ™- 
PnVe  them  of  the  verv  «     T  '"P"'''""  "  «"  do- 

tie  parent  who  bl"  ;,  -      ?'^        *'»  '^''"''er  or 

«d  its  little  pill  m  tLf 

^"■k  and  hard,   tet  i  f .'"""'^y  prematurely 

"«««nd  patience";  whLver  el"  "T'  « 
'»  "  'hat  we  a.  no;  I^lf  11  '? 
yes,  wonderfully  worth  T^f 
open  slowly,  but  the  loiteZ'  w      f'"'  "'^ 
«  great  surprise    Tt .  opening  often  brine. 

where  dem^d  i.  I^Z^^J'^'*""^'^'  '«« 

"Pon  the  powera  of  endur- 


SOUND  IN  PATIENCE 


ance  "Sound  patience"  is  always  a  good  invest- 
ment. In  the  presence  of  a  civilisation  which  moves 
upward  with  slow  and  leaden  feet,  or  in  the  presence 
of  an  uajpukiye  enthusiasm  which  squanders  its 
treasure  m  thoughtless  speed,  sound  patience  always 
pays.  And  in  the  presence  of  hereavement,  when 
dayhght  fades,  and  twilight  reigns,  when  tie  so^ 

fs'dl"   7^"^      ^"'"^  ^'^f^  labour 

IS  done,  and  begins  to  put  its  tools  away,  Wieve  me 

sound  patience  pays.  ' 

"Best  comes  at  length,  though  life  be  long  and  d«.m 
The  day  must  dawn,  and  darksome  ni^t  be  waT 
AH  journeys  end  in  weloonMM  to  the  weaVy, 
And  heaven,  the  heart',  true  honw.  shall  oome  at  Iwt- 

But  what  is  our  hope  of  patience  ?  Where  is  our 
resource?  How  ean  we  hold  out?  Here  is  the 
banning  of  the  secret.  -  He  endured/-  "  if  we 
suffer  mth  Him."  It  is  in  feUowship  with  Him 
and  in  Him  only,  that  we  become  triumphant.  The 
resources  of  the  patient  Lord  are  offered  to  thos! 
who  seek  to  live  the  patient  life.  "  Blessed  are  the 
meek,  for  they  shall  inherit."    "  The  meek  will  He 

^ay.     The  Lord  of  patience  will  bestow  His  own 
l»ealing  virtue  upon  the  waiting  soul. 

"Dear  Lord  and  Father  of  mankind. 
Forgive  our  feverish  ways  I 
Keclothe  us  in  our  rightful  mind: 
Itt  purer  Uvee  Thy  service  find, 
la  de^tr  revninee,  pniMi  •» 


™ESECR.TOPMORA.Pkog«BSS 

J  WW  run  the  war  of  Ti,.,  _ 

•"^  ^»™.d«»^      a„  ^ 

P^PIe  not  an  attractive  road '    r.  • 

»  It  is  a  road  X^^.  t'^  .         ""J  «- 

-de  with  prohibi,i„„3,''i:^''i^';!?««^  -I"""*  on  eve,y 
R"»rdcd  freedom  of  a  ^"'^  ""e 

"gJance  of  a  stem  and^ 
•  little  while  ago  i„  a  ttr*^  ^  'to«I 

<>»  «o  aide  of  L  l:n^t:'>''"^^  ^ 
»e«  inseriM,  and  onTe  ^"'"""■'Iment. 
•nd  I  felt  in  paaain^^"*    f  V 
had  changed  fmTtk  im^  °  •  tl-«t  I 

-inter  into  the  ^Z,^!^;' ""'"'^o'^  ot 
I  do  no,  ™  E™"'"'  °f  the  ,pri„g. 

"Ot  thini  they  wore;  f„  fd,^  ^^h^thy;  I  /„ 

*e  o„»»«.ndn.enta^"^  '  t'.r  r'' 


SECRET  OP  MOBAL  PBOGRESS  149 

^  more  winaome  figure  is  built.  And  so  in  passing 
from  the  commandments  to  the  beatitudes  I  was  Cut 
„  from  the  bald  and  essential  skeleton  on  wh^l 
these  finer  and  softer  irraoes  can  h«  UiA    t»  . 

With ...  thi,  the  ^^y'^.TLZ^^^:\'z 

an  a  t^acive  and  inspiring  ToZ^L"  ^ 

note,  bnt  when  it  oonw  to  n.  with  the  rigid  featurj 
proach.      When  the  commandment  came,"  «« 
hS/'l  "t  -  "  h^ 

"  The  way  of  Thy  commandments."  Through  th. 
Christian  Sprintnroa  *u  1^  inrough  tbe 

'•-ding  stef  Zit^I,  ^'"^  - 

self  tP,.  ""^       e^'*  «»  ">e  lord  Him- 

tti:  r  r 

him  go  UP  th.  Jn     u  to 
*  ^i»«e  I  perceived  he  fdl 


150     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


from  running  to  going,  and  from  going  to  clamber- 
ing uijon  his  hands  and  his  knees  because  of  the 
steepness  of  the  place/'   Yes,  the  way  becomes  very 
steep  as  we  draw  near  the  Lord!   His  command- 
ments cover  not  only  deed  but  purpose,  not  only 
achievement  but  intention ;  they  pass  from  the  nega- 
tive to  the  positive,  and  in  the  transition  the  altitude 
is  immeasurably  heightened.    Passion  is  now  judged, 
not  by  the  measure  of  its  destructiveness,  but  by  the 
intensity  of  its  flame.    The  duty  of  a  balanced  re- 
taliation is  changed  into  a  beneficent  ministry.  Love 
is  no  longer  a  benign  passivity,  but  an  active  crusade. 
Take  the  teachings  of  our  Lord,  map  out  the  way 
of  His  commandments,  make  a  contour  map  of  the 
road,  and  you  will  find  that  you  are  face  to  face 
with  a  shuddering  ascent,  an  ascent  so  stiff  and  steep 
that  some  declare  it  to  be  the  dream  of  a  visionary, 
the  moral  prospectus  of  a  fanatic,  proclaiming  im- 
peratives which  are  unpractical  and  impracticable. 
The  moral  ideal  of  Jesus  is  just  overwhelming;  so 
much  so,  that  many  do  with  it  as  the  Swiss  did  in 
the  olden  times  with  the  Alps,  build  their  houses 
with  their  backs  to  the  towering  heights,  and  they 
face  the  lowlands  of  human  expediency  and  moral 
commonplace. 

Now  let  me  remind  you  that  the  word  "  heart " 
has  a  much  wealthier  significance  than  we  commonly 
attach  to  it  to-day.  The  symbolic  significance  of  the 
word  in  our  own  day  is  confined  almost  exclusively 
to  the  emotions.    If  we  say  that  a  man  has  a  big 


SECRET  OF  MORAL  PROGRESS  151 


heart  we  do  not  refer  to  the  range  of  his  thought,  but 
to  the  quality  of  his  sympathies.  If  we  say  that  a 
man  has  no  "  heart "  we  mean  that  the  channels  of 
feeling  are  as  dry  as  a  river  bed  in  time  of  drought. 
Nay,  we  even  bring  the  brain  and  the  heart  into  dis- 
tinct and  isolated  positions.  We  say  that  a  man  has 
not  very  much  brain,  but  that  he  has  a  very  big 
heart.  Now  all  these  modern  distinctions  must  be 
laid  aside  when  we  seek  the  interpretation  of  the 
word  of  God.  I  am  not  aware  that  the  word 
"  brain  "  or  "  brains  "  ever  occurs  in  the  Bible.  Ac- 
cording to  the  primitive  physiology  of  those  times  the 
heart  was  the  mysterious  seat  of  thought  as  well  as 
of  feeling.  The  heart  was  "  the  seat  of  man's  col- 
lective energies,  the  very  focus  of  his  personal  life." 
All  the  great  elements  in  personality  which  psychol- 
ogy has  discovered  and  named  had  their  pre-eminent 
seat  in  the  heart;  the  heart  was  the  throne  in  the 
individual  empire.  And  therefore  the  "  heart "  is 
inclusive  of  the  intellectual,  the  emotional,  the  voli- 
tional, all  that  is  now  signified  by  thought  and  feeling 
and  will.  When,  therefore,  the  Psalmist  declares 
that  he  Avill  "  run  the  way  "  of  God's  commandments 
Avhen  God  shall  "  enlarge  "  his  heart,  he  is  thinking 
of  something  far  more  than  the  enrichment  of  senti- 
ment, he  is  contemplating  the  heightening  and  deep- 
ening and  broadening  of  his  entire  being,  when 

"Mind  and  soul,  according  well. 
May  make  one  mosio  as  before. 
Bat  vattBT," 


THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

evB^  put  of  the  life  being  energised  and  strength, 
ened  hy  the  gradoiui  influenoes  of  the  eternal 
God.    Moral  apeed  will  come  with  spiritual  en- 

largement. 

I,  V.""  ■  •  •  enlarge  my 

heart.'  When  Thou  shalt  enlarge  my  thZghU 
Many  of  us  go  slowly  because  we  do  not  see  far. 
Ihere  is  no  long  range  of  purpose  in  our  eyes,  and 
therefore  our  feet  are  sluggish.  Our  imaginations 
are  not  peopled  with  the  glories  of  attainment,  and 
therefore  there  is  no  eager  haste  in  our  steps.  Ka- 
po  eon  got  his  men  over  the  Alps  by  richly  sharing 
with  them  the  promises  and  purposes  of  the 

riT'  *  T^r  ^"'^  resplendent 

nches  of  Italian  eities  even  while  they  were  contend- 
ing with  the  stupendous  obstacles  of  the  trackless 
wastes  of  snow.    Their  thoughts  included  the  suuny 
Ita  lan  plains  as  well  as  the  grimness  of  the  imme- 
diate toil,  and  that  forward^ast  of  the  eyes  gave 
strength  and  inspiration  to  their  labours.  «I^ 
run  the  way  of  Thy  commandments  when  Thou  shalt 
e^arge  my"  thought  when  my  mind  is  filled  with 
Thy  blessed  purposes,  when  even  now  the  eyes  of  my 
«i^ation  rove  over  the  celestial  fields,  and  when 
even  now  I  feel  something  of  the  warmth  and  liberty 
of  the  coming  noon.    That  is  what  we  need  if  we  are 
ever  to  run.    We  need  enlargement  of  thought,  range 
of  vision  we  need  to  keep  the  goal  in  our  fyci  ^ 

ntlZ^  vi'^'r"*^''^^^^"^'"^^-  The  goal  h«i 
not  been  hid.    The  ultimate  purpose  is  not  lou,^ 


SECRET  OF  MOBAL  PROGRESS  108 


"  All  things  that  I  have  heard  of  my  Father  I  have 
made  known  unto  you."   "We  have  the  mind  of 
Christ."    Our  minds  may  be  expanded  to  take  in  the 
glorious  purpose,  and  eyes  that  are  held  in  that 
vision  will  most  assuredly  communicate  buoyancy 
and  speed  to  the  feet   Look  at  the  Apostle  Paul. 
The  far^ff  goal  was  always  flinging  its  kindly  ray 
upon  the  immediate  task.    That  **tMr-<xS  divine 
event"  was  ever  in  his  eyes,  and  the  light  of  its 
glory  pierced  through  the  murkiness  and  oppressive- 
ness of  the  immediate  day.    "  No  chastening  for  the 
present   seemeth   joyous;   nevertheless  afterward 
.  .  .  I "   Is  not  that  like  Napoleon's  soldiers  with 
the  sunlit  Italian  plains  in  their  eyes  f   **  This  light 
affliction,  which  is  bat  for  a  mmnoity  worketh  for  ns 
a  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  g^oiy;  while 
we  look  not  at  things  that  are  seen  but  at  the  things 
which  are  not  seen  I  "    Ay,  lhat  is  the  enlarged  mind, 
which  in  its  inclusive  range  gives  hospitality  to  the 
ultimate,  and  brings  the  glory  of  the  far-away  to 
relieve  the  burdensomeness  of  the  present  task. 
That's  the  way  to  get  over  the  hill,  and  to  get  over 
it  at  a  runi   What  is  the  philosophy  of  it!   It  is 
this.    Small  nnd  exclusive  thinking  is  like  a  dosed 
and  tiny  roo^,  in  which  the  inmates  beoome  aq>hyzi« 
ated,  and  reduced  to  lassitude  and  languor.  Large 
thinking  oxygenates  the  powers,  it  lets  ir  the  vital- 
ising wind  from  the  fai>8tretching  moors  of  truth, 
all  the  faculties  are  toned  and  braced  into  strenuoua- 
MM,  and  they  can  move  in  diffieolt  ways  with  ease. 


Iff4     THE  TRANSFIGUHD  CHUBCH 


1 1 


There  eame  a  day  in  tlie  lil  of  John  Wesley  when  his 
thoii|^  was  indefinitely  enlarged ;  faJHjff  goals  b* 
came  luminous,  pervading  purposes  beeanw  cfear; 
and  that  ( ypauded  mind  imparted  snefa  strt'onous- 

ncss  to  his  fici  that  hencr forth  life  waf  a  giotious 
race,  speeding-  it-re  and  the-o,  i„  face  of  diffienlti. 
inconceivi!,),,  !,ut  ever  in     \c  way  of  Mie  Lord's 
commamimoiif^.     "1  will  run  the  of  Thy 

commandments    when    Thou    pf.^dt    e-  large 
thou^t/'   when   the  qnickening  light   antl  fire 
of  Thine  own  parpoae  expsnds  and  possesses  my 
mind. 

It  may  be,  too,      it  further  .  darp  ments  are 
required  before  the  de.srred  r^ec^\  i    ^bta  -iied.  Should 
we  not  need,  perhaps,  to  emphasi^^c  »ias  Martic  lar 
element  with  refer*  nee  to  soiuf  i,  fi's  ne(ds^     '  I 
will  run  the  way  of  Thy  comman.Imeni  >  when  Thou 
Shalt  enlarge  my  emotions/'   The  mill  will  not  work 
if  the  mill-race  is  empty  1    The  weakness  of  many 
a  life  is  explained  by  the  poverty  of  its  emotions; 
the  emotional  energy     only  that  of  a  reduce  lad 
languid  stream,  and  ther.   w  no  power  to  ra  ihr 
mill.    There  are  lives  that  arc  seemingly  de>- 
of  any  great  capacity  to  be  dt  vply  stirred, 
storms  are  only  «  storms  in  a  lea-cup  " ;  they  nave 
nothing  of  the  terrific  movraient  of  the  d«»ti  bed 
s<  a.    They  cannot  be  raov«d  ime  mighty  indignation 
like  the  Apostle  Paul ;  "  lAo    made  to  stumUe  ad 
I  bum  not?"    They  eannr    be  ermstraiaed  into 
passionate  love;  "  I  could  wi*u  that  myself  were 


SECKET  01  MORAL  PROGRESS  165 


•eptrat«d  from  Christ  for  my  InetluwB.^'  They  can- 
not l)f  uph'  by  sullen  sorrow,  nor  made  to  danco 
in  .  t'stati  ,  v.  Their  emotional  life  is  feeble  and 
paltry,  and  t  'lere  is  no  possible  storm  in  the  scanty 
stream.  Xo  v  si  >  the  consequence.  We  must  not 
f>xpect  much  1  v  re  there  is  little  feeling, 
•"he  i  us.  naitive  sir  not  the  strenuout,  ratker  are 
iiey  tli(  ctim  slu^ ^ess  and  sleep.  T^man 
w  tj  has  10  nil  na^  ealth  will  never  bt  found 
3         f'le  s  ir   he  moral  way.  He 

re^i  res  rgviiieiit  ore  h.  'an  run!  And  this 
ver    rnlu  is  provided  for  us  in  thp  grace  of 

^-  y  loore  than  enlargement  is  provided  for, 
m  a  creation.  "  I  will  take  away  the  stony 
h^rt  s  1  1  win  give  thee  a  heart  of  fleA.''  That 
miracle  las  been  performed  in  innum^  ^e  lives. 
Lov  been  bom  where  indifFerenct  '"Tied, 

lit    i)een  turned  into  neighbour-i  iud 
^'  1'  e  has  been  enlarged  and  trans  -ed 

i  r!  y-love,  and  this  is  the  full  explanation 

01     .a  glorious  change — "  We  love  because  He 
&T9   loved  us."    When  our  selfishness  is  scooped 
out,  there  is  amazing  room  for  God.    He  ffim- 
If  will  do  the  scoopii     and  He  will  fill  the 
d  spaces  with  His  own  love,  and  most 
ludly  we  shall  "run  the  way  of  His  com- 
iii.aid:  lents "   when  He  has  thus  enlarged  our 
hearts. 

And  so  it  is  also  with  the  third  primary  element 
in  the  contents  of  the  heart,  the  factor  of  (he  wUL 


1«6     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

Many  of  M  crawl  and  faint  in  the  paths  of  the  moral 
Ideal  becauBe  onr  wiUs  are  weak  and  irresolute.  We 
am  ran  for  a  while,  but  we  fail  in  the  « long  run." 
We  are  good  for  a  hundred  yards,  but  we  are  spent 
at  the  mile.  We  begin  well,  but  the  end  is  very 
.  something  like  the  batteries  of 

portable  electric  night-lights,  good  for  so  numy 
flashes,  and  good  for  nothing  more.  We  have  yoli- 
tional  spasms,  succeeded  by  a  forceless  lethargy  In 
on,  nmmng  we  "run  down,"  and  our  pro^'ss  is 

ments  when  God  shaU  enlarge  our  wills.  And- 
that  IS  just  one  of  the  wonderful  resources  of  grace. 

It  IS  God  that  worketh  in  you  to  wittr  to  elrge 
your  will  to  fill  it  with  all  needful  power,  to  ^ 

%^Z^  V^<  f-off  goal. 

^Intt  t  all  might  by  His 

opint  la  the  umer  nun."  and  "oni.  » 

•I»Ube«rfQ«d."  our  sufficwiKy  " 

And  «,  w.  who  yam,  to  ran  in  the  way  of  His 
comn,«,dmeM,,  who  ye.m  to  obtain  power  L  .p«S 

ma,  hands,  by  ,he  means  of  prayer  .„d  faith  Z. 
«»««.t.on.  And  He  will  enlarge  us  I  How  ^ 
"l«gement  may  effected  we  cannot  tell;  it 
b.  ^  mamatae.  «o,et  and  imperceptible,  it  may 
be  by  mmutrie.  pdnfta  and  .fe^j;^  '„j„  ^ 
distress  Then  hast  enlanM  met »  It  may  be  do™ 
^«;gbt  "Thej„y„fthel.«id..^£:X 


SECRET  OF  MORAL  PROGRESS  157 


morning!  However  it  be,  the  glorious  change 
shall  be  begotten  of  God,  and  His  gentleness 
shall  make  us  great."  "I  shall  run  the  way  of 
Thy  commandments  when  Thou  ahalt  enlarge  my 
heart" 


XIV 


THY  STRENGTHI   MY  STRENGTHI 

"Awaka^  awaka,  put  on  stnqgtt,  O  arm  of  the  Lord!  "— 

Is.  IL  9. 

"Awake,  awak»,  put  on  thy  ■tveogth,  O  Zion."— Is.  lii.  I. 

"  Awake,  awake,  put  on  strength,  O  arm  of  the 
Lord  I  "   That  is  the  cry  of  an  exiled  people  to  their 
Lord.    "Awake,  awake,  put  on  thy  strength,  O 
ZionI "    That  is  the  reply  of  the  Lord  to  the  sup- 
plicatiag  people.    A  people  ety  to  their  Lord  to 
awake:  the  Lord  cries  to  His  people  to  shake  them- 
selves from  their  sleep.    Everything  seemed  to  have 
gone  against  the  exile.    He  had  been  defeated  in 
battle.    He  had  been  stiipped  of  his  hereditary  glory. 
The  light  of  his  national  renown  had  been  blown 
out    And  here  he  was,  languishing  in  despair,  in 
the  unlooseaMe  grip  of  an  alien  people.    Life  had  no 
longer  for  him  a  programme,  but  only  a  retrospect, 
no  longer  a  radiant  hope,  but  only  a  fading  reminis- 
cence, no  longer  an  alluring  vision,  but  only  a  dis- 
tinguished history.    There  was  no  longer  the  East- 
ern light  of  an  eager  dawn  in  his  eyes,  but  only  the 
snbdned  and  westerning  splendour  of  a  parting  day. 
And  so  here  he  lay  in  captivity,  and  the  songs  of 
Zioa  had  fled  from  his  lips,  and  his  mouth  wis 


THY  STRENGTH!  MY  STRENGTH!  159 


filled  with  wailing  and  complaint.  "  The  Lord  hath 
forsaken  me,  and  my  Lord  hath  forgotten  me." 
"Where  is  He  that  brought  us  up  out  of  the  sea 
with  the  shepherd  of  his  flock?  WTiere  is  He  that 
put  His  Holy  Spirit  within  us?"  And  now  and 
again  the  exile  half-turned  himself  iij  angry,  hopeless 
cry,  "  Oh,  that  Thou  wouldat  rend  the  heavens,  that 
Thou  wouldst  oome  down  I  "  And  again  he  relapsed 
into  the  low  and  cheerless  moan:  "My  Lord  hath 
forgotten  me."  And  yet  again  he  pierced  the  heaven 
with  his  searching  supplication :  "  Awake,  awake,  put 
on  Thy  strength,  0  arm  of  the  Lord,  as  in  the  ancient 
days,  in  the  generations  of  old." 

What  will  be  the  Lord's  reply  to  the  cry  of  the 
exile?  Here  it  is:  "Awake,  awake,  put  on  thy 
strength,  O  Zion !  "  The  Divine  response  is  a  sharp 
retort.  "It  is  not  thy  Qod  who  sleepethi  It  is 
thou  thyself  who  art  wrapt  about  in  a  sluggish  and 
consuming  indolence !  Thou  art  crying  out  for  more 
strength ;  but  what  of  the  strength  thou  hast  ?  Thy 
trumpet  is  silent,  and  thine  armour  is  rusting  upon 
the  walls  I  Thou  art  like  a  vagrant  asking  for  help, 
when  thou  hast  a  full  purse  hidden  between  the 
covers  of  an  idle  bed !  Thou  art  pleading  for  rein- 
forcements, and  thy  soldiers  are  on  the  couch  I  Thy 

^  ver  is  the  supplication  of  a  man  who  is  not 

'  'g  his  best!  Thou  sayest,  'put  on  strength,  O 
-  m  of  the  Lord! '  I  say  to  thee,  '  Awake,  awake, 
put  on  thy  strength,  O  Zion!'  Clothe  thyself  in 
thy  present  powers,  consecrate  thine  all  to  the  pur- 


160     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

pose  of  thy  prayer,  and  stand  forth  in  battle 
array." 

I  need  not  say  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  Lord's 
response  which  disparages  the  ministry  of  prayer.  It 
does,  however,  tend  to  put  prayer  in  its  right  place, 
and  to  give  a  true  apprehension  of  its  purpose  and 
ministry.    Prayer  is  not  a  talisman,  to  be  used  as  an 
easy  substitute  for  our  activity  and  vigilance.  Prayer 
is  a  ministry  in  which  our  own  powers  can  be  quick- 
ened into  more  vigorous  and  healthy  service.  God 
has  given  us  certain  endowments.    Certain  talents 
are  part  of  our  original  equipment.    We  are  pos- 
sessed of  powers  of  judgment,  of  initiative,  of  sym- 
pathy; and  the  primary  implication  of  all  siicoeBs- 
ful  prayer  is  that  these  powers  are  willin^y  jdaeed 
upon  the  altar  of  sacrifice.    Any  prayer  is  idle  when 
these  powers  are  indolent.    If  we  are  pleading  with 
the  Lord  for  more  strength,  it  must  be  on  this  ground, 
that  our  present  strength  is  well  invested.    Is  it  not 
true  that  there  are  many  burdens  which  gall  and 
oppress  us,  both  in  the  individual  and  the  common 
life,  and  we  fervently  anpplicate  God  for  their  m- 
moval,  but  we  do  not  consecrate  oar  strength  to  dttir 
removal  ?    We  too  frequently  pray  to  be  carried  Uke 
logs,  and  it  is  the  Lord's  will  that  we  should  contend 
like  men !    If  we  would  have  the  reinforcements,  all 
ow  forces  must  be  on  the  field.    The  condition  of 
afl  eflkient  and  fruitful  prayer  is  the  consecration 
of  all  our  ftrength  towards  the  answer.  "Awake, 
awake,  pat  on  strength,  O  arm  of  the  Lord  I"  That 


THY  STRENGTH!  M\  STRENGTH!  161 


pnjer  is  legitimate  and  woo^r-working  if  we  aie 

ready  to  co-operate  with  the  spirit  of  the  Lord's 
reply,  "  Awake,  awake,  put  on  thy  strength,  O  Zion, 
put  on  thy  beautiful  garments,  O  Jerusalem." 

Well,  now  let  us  look  about  us.    The  principle  is 
this — our  "  strength  "  must  back  our  supplications. 
Is  the  backing  aVays  present?   Take  the  matter 
of  our  personal  salvation,    A  number  of  professedly 
Christian  people  are  gathered  together  in  the  com- 
mon name  of  the  Christ.    Every  one  is  conscious 
how  immature  he  is  in  the  Divine  life.    We  know 
how  dim  is  our  spiritual  diocemment.    We  know 
the  flabby  limpness  of  our  spiritual  grip.    We  know 
how  few  and  infrequent  are  our  brilliant  conquests, 
and  how  many  and  common  are  our  shameful  de- 
feats.  And  again  and  again  we  supplicate  the  Al- 
mighty:    Awake,  awake,  put  on  strmgth,  O  arm  (d 
the  Lord  I "    Is  it  possible  that  the  response  of  the 
Lord  may  be  the  retort  of  the  olden  days :  "  Awake, 
awake,  put  on  thy  strength,  O  Zion  "  ?    Is  it  possible 
that  the  reinforcements  tarry  because  the  forces  we 
have  are  drowsing  in  the  tent?    We  pray  the  Lord 
to  make  ns  finer  men  and  wranen,  and  to  lead  us  on 
to  purer  heights^  bat  how  many  of  ns  put  onr 
"strength"  into  the  climb t   We  may  put  a  sigh 
into  it,  and  an  oocasicmal  tear,  and  a  languid  and 
half-melancholy  movement,  but  of  how  many  of  us 
can  it  be  said  that  we  have  invested  our  all  in  the 
business,  every  ounce  of  our  energy,  as  the  Japanese 
inv^ed  every  ounce  of  their  energy  in  the  proseoa- 


168     THE  TBANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

tion  of  the  recent  war?    We  are  so  prone  to  divide 
the  old  psalmist^s  counsel,  and  to  pay  heed  to  one 
part  and  to  ignore  the  other.    "  Bnng  unto  the  Lord 
glory!     And  ao  we  do!    We  bring  our  Glorias 
our  doxologies,  our  hymns,  and  our  anthems,  and 
we  do  well,  but  it  is  a  maimed  and  lifeleiM  oflFering 
If,  with  the  glory,  we  do  not  bring  our  strength. 
^  Jiring  unto  the  Lord  glory  and  strength!"    It  ia 
m  this  gift  of  strength  in  our  personal  religion  that 
we  are  so  woefully  deficient.  We  need  to  bring  to  our 
religion  more  strength  of  common-sense.    Why  if 
many  men  were  as  thoughtless  and  haphazard  in  their 
business,  as  they  are  in  their  personal  religion,  they 
would  be  in  the  bankruptcy  court  in    year  I   I  say 
we  need  stronger  service  in  the  matter  of  our  per- 
Bonal  salvation-more  inventiveness,  more  fertility 
of  Ideas,  more  purpose,  more  steady  and  methodical 
perswtence.    And  we  need  to  bring  a  more  com- 
manding strength  of  wilL    There  are  some  of  us 
who,  m  our  business  life,  move  with  the  decisive 
trend  of  a  bullet  in  its  flight,  but  who,  in  the  life  of 
the  closet,  saunter  in  the  drooping,  uncertain  wander- 
mgs  of  a  falling  feather.    More  strength,  I  say  if 
the  closet  is  to  become  alive  with  reinforcements  f^m 
the  Infimtel    So  many  of  us  would  like  to  be  saints 
without  becoming  soldiers,  and  the  desire  can  never 
be  attained.    Let  me  teU  you  «  story.    It  is  taken 
from  childhood;  and  the  simplicities  of  a  child  often 
reflect  the  puerHitiea  of  the  adult    Two  little  girls 
m  the  same  class,  one  at  the  top  and  the  other  at 


THY  STRENGTH!  MY  STRENGTH!  108 


the  bottom.  The  one  at  the  bottom  oonsults  the 
one  at  the  top.    "  How  is  it  that  you  are  always  at 

the  top  of  the  class? "  "Oh,  I  ask  Jesus  to  L '. 
me!  "  "  Then  I  will  do  the  same,"  said  the  und^b 
tinguished  member,  and  she  forthwith  put  the  coun- 
sel into  practice.  Next  day  their  relative  positions 
were  unaltered,  one  at  the  top,  and  the  other  at  the 
bottom.  The  consultation  is  renewed.  "  I  thought 
you  said  that  Jesus  would  help  me,  and  here  I  am 
at  the  bottom  again ! »  «  Well,  so  He  will,  but  how 
long  did  you  work?"  "Oh,  I  never  opened  a 
book !  "  "  Awake,  awake,  put  on  strength,  O  arm  of 
the  Lord !  "  "  Awake,  awake,  put  on  thy  strength," 
O  little  backward  pupil !  "  Work  out  your  own  sal- 
vation .  .  .  for  it  is  God  that  worketh  in  you." 

Take  the  matter  of  the  salvation  of  the  home.  I 
think  I  may  assume  that  there  is  not  a  father  or 
mother  reading  these  pages  who  has  not,  in  some  form 
or  another,  commended  their  little  ones  to  the  Mess- 
ing of  Almighty  God.    We  have  had  our  fears.  We 
know  how  soon  the  wanderings  can  begin.    We  know 
how  easily  a  perverse  bias  can  be  given  to  the  plastic 
will.    And  we  have  interceded  for  them  at  the  throne 
of  grace:  "Awake,  awake,  put  on  strength,  O  arm 
of  the  Lord! "   Is  it  possible,  again  I  ask,  that  the 
Divine  response  may  be  a  sharp  but  loving  retort: 
"Put  on  thy  strength"!   Are  we  putting  onr 
"  strength  "  into  the  salvation  of  the  hornet   Im  the 
moral  and  spiritual  pulse  in  the  house  strong,  vigor- 
ous, and  healthy  ?   How  many  of  us  have  said  t» 


164     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


ourselves,  in  calm  but  intense  determination,  "  God 
helping  me,  this  home  shall  be  mightily  favourable 
to  the  making  of  Christians  I    Not  to  the  making  of 
prigs— prigs  are  not  begotten  of  a  strong,  bracing, 
spiritual  climate:  prigs  are  the  creation  of  a  luxuri- 
ous and  relaxing  temperature — this  house  shall  be 
favourable  not  to  the  making  of  prigs,  but  to  the 
making  of  strong,  healthy,  wholesome,  chivalrous 
saints  I  "    I  say,  how  many  of  us  have  registered  a 
determination  like  that,  or  have  such  a  determination 
implied  in  the  government  of  our  home  ?   I  do  not 
know  a  better  pattern  of  a  home  than  Charles  Kings- 
ley's,  but  he  brought  his  strength  to  its  creation.  It 
was  a  home  whose  moral  atmosphere  was  like  the  air 
on  Alpine  heights,  a  home  in  which,  in  all  perplexi- 
ties, the  only  referendum  was  the  Lord  Himself,  a 
home  all  of  whose  ministries  were  clothed  in  grace 
and  beauty.    "Put  on  thy  strength,  put  on  thy 
beautiful  garments! "   I  do  not  seek  to  make  any 
deteiled  suggestions,  I  would  not  presume  to  do  it: 
all  I  now  want  is  to  urge  that  we  back  our  prayers 
for  our  children  with  our  own  strength,  and  not 
allow  our  prayers  to  be  weaker  d  and  emasculated  by 
our  comparative  indolence  and  weakness.    It  is  a 
good  investment:  it  is  worth  doing;  there  is  nothitig 
worthier.    I  shall  never  forget  hearing  a  long  c  i- 
versation  between  two  men,  cme  of  whom  had  in- 
quired of  the  other  the  size  of  his  family.    "  I  have 
ten,"  he  said.   "  What  a  responsibility ! "  replied  the 
other.  To  which  there  came  at  otiae  the  ^ad  ie> 


THY  STRENGTH!  MY  STRENGTH!  166 

Bpome:  "And  what  a  priyilege,  for  tliej  are  all 

workers  on  the  side  of  God."   Did  I  not  lay  it  is 

worth  living  for?  No  higher  purpose  can  govern 
our  years.    "  Put  on  thy  strength,  O  ZionI  " 

And,  lastly,  there  is  the  n.atter  of  social  redemp- 
tion.   We  are  all  familiar  with  the  disturbing  pres- 
ences in  the  common  life;  the  wretchedness  which 
wraps  people  about  like  a  chilling  and  soaking  mist: 
the  moral  pestilence;  the  sin  which  flaunts  its  naked- 
,  ness,  and  the  sin  which  clothes  itself  in  the  garb  of 
virtue ;  the  sorrow  that  cries,  and  the  sorrow  that  has 
no  cry ;  the  clean  and  the  grimy  poverty ;  the  omni- 
present pain.    How  often  have  we  prayed  for  the 
city:    Awake,  awake,  put  on  strength,  O  arm  of  the 
Lord  I "    And  still,  I  think,  there  comes  the  Divine 
retort,  "Put  on  thy  strength,  O  Zion!*'  "Thy 
armour  is  rusting  in  the  anuonryl   Thy  lesouroea 
are  wasting  in  indolence  and  negleott   Use  the 
strength  thou  hast  before  pleading  for  more  I  Rein- 
forc(3ments  came  to  soldiers  on  the  field  I    The  five 
talents    used    shall    become    tenl    Put    on  thy 
strength !  "    That  is  our  Lord's  response  to  us  to-day 
in  this  work  of  social  and  national  redemption.  We 
abuse  the  privilege  of  prayer  when  we  make  it  a 
minister  of  personal  evasion  and  ne^ect  Tha 
prayer  of  the  lips  is  only  acceptable  when  it  ia 
accompanied  by  the  strength  of  the  hands.  Have 
we  put  our  "  strength  "  into  it  ?    Are  we  supplicat- 
ing for  the  removal  of  burdens  when  already  we 
ourselves  have  strength  to  remove  them  t   Let  us  look 


m     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

about  us.    There  is  the  sin  of  the  city.    A  burden  f 
Oh,  yes,  a  crushing  burden.    A  mystery  ?    Yes,  an 
unfathomable  mystery.  Shall  we  pray  about  it  ?  Oh, 
yea,  let  m  pray  mightily,  but  only  if  we  are  willing 
to  mightily  consecrate  our  strength;  do  not  let  us 
presume  to  appeal  to  the  arm  of  the  Lord  if  there 
be  no  weapon  in  our  hands.    How  is  it  with  drunk- 
enness ?    Can  we  honestly  say  that  we  have  put  our 
strength  into  our  attack?    To  put  on  one's  strength 
may  just  mean  to  put  off  one's  coat  I    Will  anybody 
assert  for  a  moment  that  we  have  put  our  strength 
into  the  business,  and  by  negative  and  positive  min- 
istries sought  the  sobriety  of  our  people  ?   "  Put  on 
thy  strength,  O  ZionI »    How  is  it  with  gambling? 
We  all  admit  it  to  be  a  subUe  disease  in  the  body 
politic,  secretly  consuming  the  manhood  and  the 
womanhood  of  the  realm.    We  all  admit  its  ravages, 
among  peer  and  peasant,  the  millionaire  and  the 
pauper.    And  I  saw  the  other  day  that  a  prayer- 
meeting  was  caUed  to  supplicate  God  for  our  de- 
liveYl   It  is  well  to  appeal  to  the  aim  of  the  Lord, 
but  have  we  used  the  strength  we  havet   Can  we 
truthfully  say  we  have  used  the  weapona  we  liave, 
and  they  have  broken  in  our  hands,  and  are  alto^ 
gether  inefficient  and  useless  ?    Or,  again,  I  ask,  are 
our  weapons  rusting  in  the  hall?  Do  we  not  know 
that  if  to-morrow  we  were  to  make  the  publication  of 
bettong  news  illegal,  one  half  the  gambling  in  the 
land  would  ceaaet   Why  not  tiy  the  weapon  before 
falling  m  m  atramedly  impotent  prcetration  before 


THY  STRENGTH!  MY  STRENGTH!  W 

the  Lord  t  Let  iu  oome  to  the  prtyeMiMetuig  with 

the  weapons  in  our  hands,  and  consecrate  them  to  the 
service  of  the  kingdom,  and  do  not  let  us  aarame  an 
impotence  when  part  of  our  present  resources  are 
still  unused—"  Put  on  thy  strength,  O  Zion  I  "  And 
how  is  it  with  poverty?    The  grim,  gaunt  thing  is 
in  our  midst,  squalid,  ominous,  terrible!  "Yes, 
where  is  God  to  allow  it       "  Awake,  awake,  put  on 
strength,  O  arm  of  the  Lord  I "   «  Where  is  God  to 
allow  it?"   Nay,  nay,  there  is  a  prior  question. 
Where  are  we  to  allow  it  ?    "  Put  on  thy  strength, 
O  Zion!  "    Have  we  put  our  strength  into  it,  every 
ounce  of  it?    It  may  be  that,  when  we  have  ex- 
hausted all  our  resources,  something  of  poverty  may 
still  remain.   It  may  be  so,  but  do  not  let  us  argue 
about  the  perpetuity  of  the  thing  while  our  possible 
resources  are  slumbering  in  dishonourable  neglect. 
It  may  be  that,  when  we  have  done  all,  something  of 
drunkenness  may  remain,  and  something  of  lust 
may  remain,  and  something  of  poverty  may  remain; 
but  what  a  plea  we  shall  have  with  God,  and  how 
mighty  will  be  on   supplication,  when  we  can  come 
to  Him  and  say:  -  O  God,  our  armoury  is  empty, 
our  reserves  are  all  called  out,  our  last  man  is  on 
the  field,  our  ammunition  is  spent,  and  the  enemy 
still  boasts  himself  in  our  midst!   Awake,  awake, 
put  on  thy  strength,  O  arm  of  the  Lord! "    I  say 
that  kind  of  prayer  would  shake  the  very  heavens, 
^d  we  should  have  as  our  eager  and  wiUing 
the  innumerable  hosts  of  the  eternal  God. 


!••     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

And  80  let  lis  never  forget  that,  when  we  pray  for 
the  Mlvition  of  the  world,  it  is  implied  that  we  will 
pot  OUT  strength  into  the  cleansing  and  sweetening 
of  oup  own  little  corner  of  the  world.  There  is  no 
tnie  prayer  wHhoat  a  full  conaeciation. 


XV 
BOLDNESS 

"  When  they  beMd  flM  boldnsw  of  FMw  aad  JAm 
they  mamlled."— Aow  It.  13.  .  .  . 

We  have  acocmiidislied  wHiiethuig  wben  wb  make 
the  world  wonder!  To  break  ap  ita  frigid  isdiffei^ 
once,  to  shake  it  out  of  its  customary  drowaineaa,  to 

startle  it  info  an  open-eyod  surprise  is  to  commence 
a  ministry  which  may  issue  in  fruitful  worship. 
Wonder  may  occasion  curiosity,  curiosity  is  fre- 
quently the  mother  of  reverence,  reverence  is  the 
secret  of  devotion     >Vhen  we  have  elicited  men's 
wonder,  we  have  tafc..  rhe  rnt  step  to  making  them 
pray    What  was    i     Uch  excited  the  iwrH's 
wonder  ?    "  When  tL.y  beh«M  the  boldnem  of  P^tf- 
and  John."    That  is  a  very  wealthy  word,  ,  v^rd 
not  suggestive  of  any  one  particular  element,  but  of 
a  whole  treasury  of  spirituaJ  .^ontent.  It  r^eans  r-e«- 
enoe  of  mind.    It  mean-  freedom  of  speecii.  It 
meana  outspokenneaa  almost  to  the  point  of  hlunt- 
ness.    The  men  whom  the  world  waa  contemplating 
iiad  nothing  about  them  of  the  paniwtricken.  Thdr 
words  were  not  stammered  in  fearful  nnoertuiity 
They  cud  not  indulge  in  weak  and  mincing  ambigui- 
ties.   They  did  not  bide  the  strength  of  their  testi- 
mony m  tke  eourtier's  finesse.    The  outlinea  of  thtir 


170     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

character  and  confession  were  not  dim  and  broken 
like  the  lineaments  of  some  hazy  moorj  thej  stood 
out,  clear  and  decisive,  like  the  carved  sky-line  of  a 
mountain  range,  or  like  the  rocky  headlands  of  a  bold 
and  well-defined  coast.  "When  they  beheld  the 
boldness  .  .  .  they  marvelled." 

And  who  were  the  men  upon  whom  this  masculine 
grace  was  found  ?    "  When  they  beheld  the  boldness 
of  Peter/*    That  is  an  astonishing  conjunction !  It 
is  one  of  the  phrases  which  describe  the  wonderful 
ministry  of  grace.   It  records  a  gospel  miracle.  I 
know  that  our  hardest  rocks,  the  igneous  rocks,  are 
just  transformed  mud,  mud  that  has  passed  through 
the  ministiy  of  terrific  fire.    And  here  is  Simon 
Peter,  once  as  yielding  as  mud,  not  bearing  a 
feather's  weight,  but  now  having  passed  through  the 
discipline  of  flame,  the  fire  of  an.  intense  affection, 
he  18  firm  and  irresistible  as  rock.    «  Thou  also  wast 
one  of  His  disciples  I"  .  .  .  « I  know  not  the 
man!"    That  is  the  yielding  mud  I   And  it  is  this 
man,  transformed  in  the  very  fibres  of  his  being, 
who  now  arrests  the  thoughtless  indifference  of  the 
world,  and  by  the  spectacle  of  a  magnificent  boldness 
startles  it  into  a  great  surprise.    "  When  they  beheld 
the  boldness  of  Peter  they  marvelled." 

*'And  of  John!"  I  cannot  say  that  the  artist's 
John  very  frequently  conveys  to  me  a  sufficient  con- 
ception of  the  boeom-friend  of  Christ  The  artist 
usually  figures  him  as  of  mUd  and  genUe  oonnte- 
n«nce,  with  far-away  dreamy  ejei,  and  of  moat 


BOLDNESS 

effeminate  mien.    Well,  I  think  that  any  true  pop. 

traiture  of  John  must  include  some  of  these  things: 
there  must  be  a  suggestion  of  mysticism,  and  in  the 
face  there  must  be  a  large  and  winsome  gentleness 
to  which  we  feel  we  could  expose  our  wounds  and 
our  broken  hearts;  but  the  gentleness  must  not  be 
effeminate,  it  must  be  strong  and  masculine,  and  in 
the  face  must  be  charactered  elements  with  which  the 
flippant  could  no  more  trifle  than  he  could  play  with 
fire.    If  John  is  light  he  is  also  lightning!  "And 
he  surnamed  them  Boanerges,  the  sons  of  thunder  I  " 
Perhaps  the  character  of  the  apostle  John  might  find 
its  appropriate  symbol  in  a  lovely  dale  in  Derby- 
shire through  which  I  have  often  strolled.  There 
are  the  soft,  sweet,  grassy  slopes,  a  welcome  delicacy 
for  tired  feet;  but,  rising  sheer  out  of  the  luscious 
green  there  tower  the  bare,  stem,  rocky  crags,  re- 
vealing to  us  the  character  of  the  hidden  founda- 
tions in  which  even  the  quiet  springy  turf  finds  its 
hed  and  rest.    John  leaned  on  the  Master's  breast; 
he  went  to  Patmos  for  his  faith!    "When  they 
beheld  the  faoldnefls  of  Peter  and  John  .  .  .  they 
njarvelled." 

This  boldness  was  a  phenomenon.  They  could  not 
fit  It  into  any  of  the  current  explanations.    It  was 

clear  that  it  was  not  the  product  of  the  schools.  It 
was  not  the  fruit  of  culture.  They  "  perceived  that 
they  were  unlearned  and  ignorant  men."  "Un- 
learned \ »  Yes,  that  was  most  evident !  Even  their 
drew  gave  evidence  of  their  illiteracy.    They  lacked 


m     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

the  academic  gown.    They  did  not  wear  the  impoe- 
ing  robe  of  the  scribe.    Why,  even  in  their  veiy 
attire,  the  contrast  between  them  and  the  rabbi  was 
Bomething  like  the  contrast  between  a  Cromer  fisher- 
man and  an  Oxford  don!   "  Unlearned !  »  Cer- 
tainly; their  accent  betrayed  them  I    The  roughness 
of  the  provincial  dialect  still  clung  to  their  untutored 
tongues.    They  lacked  the  gloss  and  finish  of  the 
schools.    "Unlearned!"    Certainly,  the  very  sub- 
jects and  emphases  of  rabbinical  learning  found  no 
place  m  their  speech.    But  more  than  "  unlearned  " 
they  were  "ignorant"  men!    The  original  word 
which  lies  behind  this  term  "ignorant"  is  our  Enir- 
hsh  word  "  idiots."    I  do  not  say  that  it  has  the 
intensity  of  meaning  which  attaches  to  the  word 
to-day,  but  even  in  that  earlier  day  it  had  acquired 
the  trend  which  has  landed  it  in  its  present  applica- 
tion.   « Ignorant,"  as  here  employed,  means  a  silly 
person,  a  mere  layman  as  opposed  to  a  ranked  official 
a  quadc  as  compared  with  a  skilled  physician.  Thev 
could  not  fit  these  men  anywhere  into  the  hierarchy 
of  official  teachers,  and  so  they  relegated  them  to  Ae 
ranks  of  the  unrecognised,  the  mere  qn«jks,  md 
labelled  them  "  unlearned  and  ignorant  men."  And 
yet  here  the  men  stood,  with  fine  spiritual  serenity, 
^  an  unshaken  strength  of  assurance,  with  a  firm 
definiteness  of  thought,  with  an  unwonted  precision 
of  speech,  and  a  magnificent  irresistibleness  of  life  I 
Schooled  or  unschooled  this  had  to  be  accounted  for! 
^-isherman  or  rabbi  this  character  damanded  expla- 


BOLDNESS  ITS 

nation  I  Here  was  the  ample  mmdow,  hat  here 
too  was  the  grand,  out-jutting  hei^tt  of  spimm 
crag!    How  explain  it?    "  When  thty  bAdd  tiie 

boldness  of  Peter  and  John,  and  perceived  that  they 
were  unlearned  and  ignorant  men,  they  marvelled  " 
What  was  the  explanation  of  this  character  which 
80  perplexed  the  world  ?  You  must  turn  back  to  the 
eighth  verae,  and  yon  will  find  the  secret.  Then 
Peter,  filled  wUh  ike  Holy  Qhott/"  That  is  the 
explanation  of  the  boldness.  It  is  p^,  ^ 
Infinite!  A  man  who  is  filled  with  God  can  be  none 
other  than  bold.  It  is  as  natural  for  him  to  be  bold 
as  it^  IS  for  others  to  be  craven,  as  natural  to  be 

'Z'^'u^.  *^  ^  ""^P-  P^"«e  by  the 

word  "filled."    The  entire  emphasis  gathers  there. 

It  w  a  picttttesqne  woid.  It  was  the  word  that  was 
nsed  when  the  net  ««a«o»«iw«A  fishes.  It  was 
the  word  that  was  md  viMni  aB  the  bolee  were 
levelled  up,  and  the  way  was  made  efen  and  rfain. 

It  was  the  word  that  was  used  when  a  substaaoe  had 
^n  Steeped  and  soaked  in  the  dye,  and  every  strand 
«d  thread  in  the  fabric  had  received  the  requisite 

V      "  T^'  ^^'Se  inclusive 

«U»tH»sh,ps,  »s  tfce  word  nsed  to  describe  die  in- 
Wlmg  of  these  men  with  Ibe  Spirit  of  God.  Thev 
were  filled  with  the  Spirit  like  a  erammed  net 
Every  gap  and  lack  in  their  being  was  kveOed  np  by 
the  Spirit,  and  the  whole  life  was  even  and  m- 
metrical  And  every  tissue  and  fibre  in  mind  and 
Heart  and  soul  was  steeped  in  the  Spirit,  aad  ^ 


m     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

into  one  all-pervasive  and  heavenly  hue.  "Then 
Peter,  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost !  "   Do  you  won- 
der that  he  was  bold,  and  startled  the  onlooker? 
Why  are  we  not  bold?   Because  the  filling  is  only 
partial.    We  t.uch  God  on  one  side  and  not  on 
another.    While  these  words  were  being  written  I 
passed  from  my  study  for  a  moment  to  another  room 
m  the  house,  passed  from  sunshine  into  comparative 
twilight,  and  from  warmth  into  comparative  cold. 
The  transition  is  symbolic  of  the  change  one  fre- 
quently experiences  in  passing  from  one  side  of  a 
man's  life  to  another.    You  touch  him  here,  and  he 
IS  sunny  with  God's  presence;  you  touch  him  there 
and  you  are  struck  with  the  chills  of  a  cold  nidit- 
wind.    If  we  were  filled  with  the  Spirit,  if  eveiT 
room  in  the  great  temple  of  the  life  was  pervaded 
with  heavenly  light  and  heat,  it  would  be  possible  to 
move  from  one  room  to  another  without  any  per- 
ceptible ^ange  of  temperature.   Life  has  many 
faculties,  and  our  trouWe  often  is  that  some  are 
filled,  and  some  are  unfilled  with  the  Spirit  of  God 
Sometimes  the  conscience  is  God-filled,  but  not  thi 
aflFections.    Sometimes  the  faculty  of  benevolence  has 
the  heavenly  light,  but  not  the  imagination.  Some- 
tunes  the  emotions  are  consecrated,  but  not  the  reason 
Mid  judgment    Life  has  many  relationships,  rela- 
tionships in  worship,  in  work,  in  recreation,  relation- 
ships in  the  family,  in  society,  in  the  State,  and  if 
we  were  "  filled  with  the  H<Jy  (Miost we  could  pass 
itim  one  reUtioaahip  to  another,  find  Ckxi's  light  in 


BOLDNESS 

.11,  and  there  woald  b.  nottag  «m  from  the  heat 

iJZr   •  ?  -  fl-e  peril 

of  he  Christian  life.   It « the  nnfflled  facnltr  wWeh 

nuUces  the  indeoWve  life.    It  i,  ,he  unl^iZT^ 

^™  '°        ""ly  «  ™  give 

«nmen»  ,dv«.t.ge.  to  the  devil.   It     the  partial 

opemng  U„t  mOu,  the  perilous  draught;  there  are 
no  draught,  in  the  .p«,  .i,,  ^,  ' 
enwrap  us  akut  on  eveiy  aide.  We  on*  Col 
euswathed  enveloped  in  the  Holy  Spirit,  SZ^ 
facultv  and  eveiy  «l.tionshipV,  hL  h^Z 
gracious  flood.    Open  yourself  out  to  the  l" 

a^t?  P"'     '"^"g""  »■'<'  -ai-ty  life 

>ng  holdl   « And  ^  they  were  yet  praying  ,t 

gether  and  they  were  dl  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost 
«nd  they  spake  the  word  of  God  with  hdd.^"  ^ 
There  is  great  and  peculiar  need  of  this  aportdic 
Wdn«s"t.d.y    The  times  imperatively 
^.a^  attuude  in  the  soul.    The  Christian 
™»«««  louat  be  conspieuous  for  strength,  inteUi- 
gence,  de«„ivene»,  .,t«=t   Whatever  T. 
lowed  to  he  in  ol»cnrity.  or  hidden  .way  fn 
and  mystical  depths,  the  m«e«lini^  of 
d  «iplesh.p  mm  stand  out  in  hold  Za  a^^ 

we  fray.    There  w  nothing  ia  the  migbi 


m     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

and  majesty  of  the  foe  to  make  us  dismayed,  but  we 
do  need  to  fear  a  soft  and  limp  and  flaccid  ChriiH 
tiamty.    How  do  we  stand  in  the  matter?    Can  we 
aay  that  the  great  characteristic  of  our  modem  dis- 
cipleship  18  Its  baldness,  and  that  by  the  very  vim 
and  pu^se  of  our  living  we  arrest  the  world  in  won- 
der ?    I  must  express  my  fear  that  we  are  creating 
vast  numbers  of  pulpy  Christians  who  are  destitute 
of  strong  backbone.    I  regard  with  grave  forebod- 
mg  the  encroachment  of  an  effeminate  streak  in 
^an  character  which  is  imperilling  its  robust- 

down  to  the  square,  solid  Biblical  meals  in 

which  our  fathers  reveUed  in  the  generations  past. 
We  have  fallen  upon  the  days  of  scraps,  and  snaps 
and  daps:  everything  has  to  be  reduced  to  the  tit-bit 
and  we  ignore  the  firm  and  solid  loaf.    How  can  wb 
expect  robustness  from  such  diet?    If  the  Christian 

fjf  T"'^"'''  '  P«"J-««d  I  speak  not  as 
one  who  looks  m  at  its  window,  but  as  one  who  sits 
down  at  .to  taUe-its  peril  consists  in  the  infre- 
quency  of  the  solid  meaL  When  I  look  at  the  table  I 
sometimes  fear  for  the  muscle.  I  confess  that  I 
would  sometimes  like  to  see  larger  joints  upon  the 
table,  and  larger  supplies  of  wholemeal  bread,  with 
a  fine  hard  crust  to  ensure  mastication.  Depend 

enoe,  the  furnishing  of  our  table  determines  the 

«£  our  «Uad  WM  woently  «mcemed  with  the  softness 


rf  the^ildren',  limfe.  Their  limto  were  threaded 
bmding  gnstle  rather  than  with  firm  and  wet 
butbow.  A-rfwbrti.  the  explanation?  Thatll 
™ter  they  drink  i.  to.  «ft,  de^tute  of  the  hardt 
ekments,  Iack,„g  the  lin«  whid.  go-  u,  ft.  m^Z 
of  bone.  And  in  the  Chrirti«,  lif.,  who,  tto  kw^ 
a«  too  ,„ft  and  gristly,  or 

Jto^ther  wanting,  the  cause  may  fiZ^T  U 
fonnd  »  too  «ft  a  water-snpply,  i/thelTrSL 

m  wat'oTcX'"'  """"r  °^ 

Z  T      ^•'™»°'       Iw'd,  hard  enongh  but 

'  ""ff  bo«  that  novor  wouJitnd 

l»ne  hat  could  on],  he  We  m J*  a^  fo 

t  that  our  water  is  not  too  soft,  that  on,  Z  J. 
too  snippety,  that  we  acquire  enough  i™a«ad  Ii~ 
^  ^ve  strength  and  consistency  to  L  oZ^r  Z 

cbl^^^^  That  is  th. 

We  n^' 

them  not  to  speak  at  all  nor  teach  in  thTZfS 

T."  "^^^^  »i  -ighTT:: 

.-.«.d.nkth«.i.J:^X'^^- 


ns     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

that  i8  not  an  irrelevant  word  in  these  days  of  multi- 
plied pledgea  l  Every  pledge  I  take  may  put  iron 
into  my  conscience,  or  it  may  narcotise  it  into  deeper 
thTr  I  ^viU  pray  every  day, 

that  I  will  read  the  Bible  every  day,  or  I  nledio 
-yself  that  I  will  plead  for  mi  Jonari;.  ^4 

about  the  Master  every  day;  and  so  on,  and  so  onl 
The  sphere  is  great,  the  ministry  is  splendid,  but 

the  non-fulfilment  of  the  pledge  is  the  application  of 
an  opiate  to  the  conscience;  it  directly  tends  to 
«  ence  the  warder  on  the  hill,  and  the  bold,  clear 
bugle-peal  dies  away  from  the  heights.    But  let 
this,  too  be  said  as  the  expression  of  the  same  in- 
vincible  law:  every  time  a  worthy  pledge  is  worthily 
kept  the  warder  on  the  hill  becomes  more  vigiW 
h^s  damn  becomes  more  clear,  and  it  will  rifg  ou^ 
before  the  world  as  once,  in  my  native  town,  in  a 
night  of  general  festivity,  when  the  bells  were  clang- 
mg  from  every  steeple,  I  heard  the  firebell  ring  out 
above  all  other  sounds,  announcing  that  a  destructive 
hre  Mas  burning  even  in  the  season  of  prevaUing 
least     Keep  your  r-onscience  bold!    Look  after  the 
beU^hamber!    Let  it  be  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost! 

And  we  need  to  display  boldness  of  will.  Look 
at  these  Spirit-filled  men.    "Let  us  straitly 
threaten  them  that  they  speak  henceforth  to  no  man 


BOLDNESS 

in  this  njune."  .  .  .  "  We  cannot  hut  speah" 
How  magmfioent  the  response !    They  felt  their  wills 
to  be  caught  m  the  sweeping  current  of  the  Infinite  I 
They  were  impelled  hy  .  mighty  imperative,  con- 
Btramed  by  an  aU-enoompassing  and  irresbtZ 
necessity.      We  cannot  but  spel  I  » 
ther  was  not  far  away  from  apostolic  ways  when 
he,  too,^  made  similar  response  to  similar  threaten- 
ings.      I  can  do  no  other,  God  help  me!  "  That 

1.    n:.^,'*'^*'""^*^^^^*^-    "I  can  do  no 
other,  God  help  mel»   A  temper  like  that,  quiet 

firm  bold,  irresistible,  would  bewilder  your  X' 
onist  and  make  him  limp  as  water.  ^ 
"  My  lads,"  said  J^apoleon  to  a  regiment  «rf  horse 

d^th  they  dnve  hxm  into  the  enemy's  ranks."  And 
we  too  when  we  are  bold  and  unflinching,  send  panic 
and  coufusion  into  the  lines  of  the  enem;.  "Be  4 
steadias^  umnovaMe."  "He  will  not  suffer  th^ 
f-t  to  be  moved  »   «  The  righteous  are  bold  al  a 

the  maid,  to  this  temper  of  holy  boldness  Yes 

the  matron  and  the  maid '    I  recall  T       ^  * 
of  Anne  AAa^     u  ^^'^  '^^"■^^ 


18D     THE  TRANSmURED  CHTTRCH 

she  underwent  her  death  wif,  undaunted  courage. 
Yes,  and  men  and  boys  I  For  I  recall  the  nam- of 
Joim  Bnnyan,  condemned  for  twelve  years  to  Bed- 
ford Gaol  became  he  persisted  in  being  tnie  to  him- 
self. He  left  his  wife  and  children,  thon^  it  Omo&t 
broke  his  heart  to  leave  tho  one  who  was  Uind. 
"I  must  venture  you  all  with  God,  though  it  goetii 
to  the  quick  to  leave  vou I  1  laust  do  it!  I  must 
do  it  I "  «  When  they  beheld  the  boldness  »  of  Anne 
Askew  and  John  Bunyan,  "  they  marvelled !  " 

"  Thej  took  knowledge  of  them  that  they  had  been 
with  Jesus."  That  is  imperfecfly  stated.  It  leavee 
out  the  essential  secret  « They  had  been  with 
Jesus  ?  Nay,  they  were  with  Jesus  f  « I  fear  no 
foe  with  Thee  at  hand  to  bless."  "God  is  our 
refuge  and  strength,  a  very  present  help  in  time  of 
trouble.  Therefore  wiU  not  we  fear  though  the 
«irth  be  removed,  and  though  the  mountains  be 
shaken  in  the  heart  of  the  seas."  "The  Lord  of 
hosts  i.  with  us:  the  God  of  Jacob  is  our  refuge." 


XVI 

MEN  OF  VIOLENCE 

"Th*  Kingdom  of  Heaven  auffereth  Tiolmae.  ud  mm  ^ 
viol«M  tek»  it  k7  ftMrn^-aUn.     it.  «»  « 


"And  men  of  violence  take  it  by  force."   That  ia 
ft  most  vehement  and  impetuous  figure.    We  must 
Wftliae  the  intenaitj  and  the  daring  of  it  if  we  would 
appreciate  the  Matter's  teftching.   "  Men  of  violence 
take  It  by  force."   It  ia  almott  anggeitive  of  a  de- 
termined burg^aiy,  the  swift  and  tenifie  aeiaiiM  of 
imprisoned  treasure.    It  is  significant  of  an  ohsti. 
nate  and  venturesome  siege,  the  carrying  of  bristling 
forts  by  storm.    "  Men  of  violence  take  it  by  force  I  " 
The  Japanese  did  not  saunter  into  Port  Arthur  by 
May  and  Inxnrious  paths;  they  entered  the  strongs 
hold  at  the  oott  of  passionate  and  exhausting  per- 
Bistenee,  along  a  stiff  and  bloody  way.   «  The  Einm- 
dom  of  Heaven  sufFereth  videnoe,  and  mm  of  vio- 
lence take  it  by  force." 

Is  this  our  familiar  conception  of  the  pilgrim- 
hand  ?  Do  we  commonly  regard  them  as  a  storming 
PWty,  winning  height  after  height  of  the  promised 
"ihentance  I  Is  this  the  popular  figure  of  Christian 
disciples-"  men  of  viotenos"  taking  positions  by 
storm?  There  are  other  figmres  of  qieeeh  which  I 
ttuak  fiU  the  popular  mind.   «  Blessed      the  peer 

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18«     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

in  spirit  for  theirs  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven." 
But  Low  far  removed  from  the  spirit  of  violence,  and 
how  httle  likely  to  capture  a  height  by  storm! 

Poor  in  spirit  "-"men  of  violence  "-we  fail  at 
the  reconciliation  of  the  figures !    «  Blessed  are  the 
mee^  for  they  shall  inherit  the  earth."   But  is 
meekness  synonymous  with  violence?    Is  meekness 
a  spirit  of  rush  and  vehemence  and  holy  daring?  I 
think  that  when  we  commonly  think  of  the  pilgrim 
hosts,  treading  the  way  to  the  celestial  city,  it  is  with 
quite  other  forms  and  colours  that  our  imagination 
works.    Our  "meek"  man  has  nothing  about  him 
of  the  burglar.    Our  man  of  the  "  poor  spirit "  is 
not  taking  a  battlement  by  storm.    The  fact  of  the 
matter  is,  our  conception  of  the  passive  virtues  needs 
to  be  vitalised,  energised,  and  we  need  to  remember 
that  even  the  passive  virtues  of  the  Christian  life 
have  a  core  of  tremendous  purpose,  and  in  the  light 
and  heat  of  that  burning,  passionate  purpose 
must  be  interpreted.    We  associate  meekness  with 
reserve  timidity,  shrinking;  rarely  do  we  link  it 
with  the  strong  and  fearless  advances  of  a  Gapon, 
the  terrible,  fiery  invective  of  a  Savonarola,  or  the 
dashing  magnetic  leadership  of  a  Garibaldi.  Meek- 
ness without  passion  is  worthless.    Poyerly  of  spirit, 
divorced  from  strength  and  daring,  wiuTever  ^ 
a  standard  on  the  heights  of  the  new  JerJd«n. 

«^^^ess  com. 

anTrir^.  poor  in 

•pmt  are  tremendous  and  invincible.   John  Bunxan 


MEN  OP  VIOLENCE  183 

was  a  meek  man,  a  man  of  great  poverty  of  spirit  a 
man  of  profound  and  penitential  humility,  watering 
his  couch  with  his  tears;  but  let  some  law  of  the 
land,  or  some  magistrate  in  whom  the  law  was  in- 
carnate, stride  across  the  heavenward  way,  and  im- 
pede the  pilgrim's  advance,  and  the  meekness  as- 
sumed the  guise  of  resistance,  and  the  tearful  peni- 
tent prepared  to  take  the  position  by  storm.  Oliver 
Cromwell  was  a  meek  man,  the  child  of  many  timidi- 
ties  and  many  fears,  with  his  head  often  bowed  in 
self-abasement,  and  hiding  low  at  the  place  of  mercy 
and  redeeming  love;  but  let  king  or  Parliament  lay 
hands  upon  the  crown  rights  of  the  Lord,  and  meek- 
ness reveals  its  hiudci  fires,  and  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven  must  be  taken  by  storm.    That  is  ever  the 
characteristic  of  the  true  child  of  the  Kingdom.  The 
children  of  the  Kingdom  are  distinguished  by  force 
of  character,  by  available  passion,  by  the  power 
Of  unflinching  persistence,  by  the  determination  to 
recapture  the  strongholds  of  sin,  and  to  plant  upon 
their  heights  the  banner  of  the  Lord.    «  The  King- 
dom of  Heaven  suffereth  violence,  and  men  of  vio- 
lence take  it  by  force."   Our  Lord  came  to  make 
strong  men. 

Now,  for.(.  of  character  is  not  always  a  pure  and 
elevating  energy-.  There  are  many  forceful  charac- 
ters found  m  the  way  of  sin  who  find  their  bourn  in 
gaol  and  on  the  scaffold.  I  always  conceive 
Judas  Iscariot  to  have  been  a  man  of  commanding 
force  of  character,  who  in  any  society  would  most 


IM     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

naturally  have  moved  to  the  front   Hii  vigour,  liis 
determination,  his  singleness  of  purpose,  his  panion 
--all  alike  distinguished  him  from  the  common 
throng.    No  one  could  come  near  the  man  without 
"oogmsing  the  foll^arged  battery  of  hie  person- 
ality.  He  had  force  enough,  but  it  waT  perverse. 
No  one  will  question  that  Lady  Macbeth  was  a  woman 
of  most  wealthy  force  of  character.    She  is  the  most 
commanding  figure  in  the  entire  tragedy.  Shemo^ea 
to  her  purpose  with  enormous  energy,  with  passion- 
ate vehemence,  with  intense  and  concentrated  deci- 
sion,  la  this  man  in  the  way?    Murder  him!  And 
tiiat  one!   Do  the  like  with  himf    She  moves  to 
her  ends  like  a  rolling  stream  of  lava,  and  ruin  and 
desolation  fiU  her  ways.    These  are  types  of  forceful 
character,  men  and  women  of  violence,  destructive 
violence,  endowed  with  personal  ^neigies  like  the 
hidden  forces  of  the  planet. 

ISow,  when  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  Sovereign 
of  the  Kingdom,  comes  to  men  and  women  like  these 
and  His  offer  of  friendship  and  redemption  is  ac- 
cepted, what  happens?   He  does  not  destroy  their 
force,  He  transforma  U.    They  are  not  deprived  of 
their  violence,  it  is  only  sublimed.    If  in  the  midst 
of  that  great  tragedy  to  which  I  have  referred,  the 
tragic  note  had  ceased,  and  by  some  marvellous  min- 
istry Lady  Macbeth  had  been  brought  under  the 
mighty  powers  of  redeeming  grace,  what  would  have 
been  the  character  of  the  change?   Would  that 
•toong,  full-flavoured,  full-blooded  woman  have  be- 


MEN  0P  VI(»^CB  185 
came  tame  and  insipid,  just  cooing  away  like  mild 
doves  m  the  cote?   Oh,  no!    She  would  have  re- 

forceful  stdl  but  with  all  the  energy  transformed 
the  fires  purged  and  purified,  and  instead  of  remain- 
ing  a  callous  murderess,  carving  her  selfish  way  to 
place  and  power,  she  would  have  become  a  Joan  of 
Arc,  leading  others  to  privilege  and  freedom.  No 
her  guns  would  not  have  been  spiked  or  destroyed  i 
^ey  would  have  been  transferred  to  the  other  side! 

energy  used  in  the  Kingdom  of  Darkness  would 
be  now  enlwted  in  the  Kingdom  of  Light.  Let  me 
gve  you  a  sample  of  this  gracious  transformation. 
Here  , s  violence,  if  you  wiU  have  it!  "Saul,  yet 
breathxng  out  threatenings  and  slaughter  against  Jhe 
diJplesofthe  Lord."  There  you  hfve  forTe^^ 
vio  ence  enough  I    What  will  you  do  with  this  rZi 

d!™nL'^^"'*r*  like  a 

d|unped-down  furnace?   Or  will  you  let  him  retain 

his  passions,  only  purified  and  glorified?  That  is 
w^t  happened.  Not  one  jot  of  force  did  this  man 
iose  in  his  transference  to  the  Kingdom.  He 
brought  all  his  guns  with  him,  only  theTZ  nfw 
duected  against  the  strongholds  of  the  devil,  and  in 

whi  Ih       T'''  «od.  Ay! 

^the  Lord  comes  to  the  violent.  He  covets  the^ 

a^'  -      ™--tiy  of  His  word 

We  til"    r^"'  ^''^  ^---d  to 

have  thee  ;  he  covets  that  passion  of  thine  that 

-agiufioent  impnlae  of  thine;  but  so  does  thy  Z- 


m     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

faal  not !  The  Lord  will  conserve  onr  fori,  and 
make  them  ministers  of  righteousness,  for  "the 
Jtingdom  of  Heaven  suffereth  Violence,  and  men  of 
violence  take  it  bj  force." 

Bnt  what  happens  when  men  and  women  have  no 
force  of  character,  no  distinguishing  violence,  when 
their  basilar  capacity  is  weak,  when  they  are  "  wishy- 
washy,"  nerveless,  and  impotent-what  happens 
when  men  and  women  of  this  type  enter  into  com- 
munion  and  covenant  with  the  Lord  ?    This  happens  : 
Ihe  Lord,  who  transforms  the  force  of  the  violent 
imparts  force  to  the  i  upotent.    There  is  nothing 
more  sure  than  this,  that  when  the  lordship  and 
friendship  of  the  King  is  honestly  and  sincerely 
accepted,  the  fellowship  begets  within  the  soul  the 
energy  of  a  powerful  life.    If  such  strength  is  nol 
begotten,  the  strength  of  a  storming  party,  it  is 
because  our  communion  is  defective,  and  our  sar- 
render  is  incomplete.    I  remember  that  great  figure 
used  by  our  lord  in  the  fourth  chapter  of  St.  John  ? 

The  water  that  I  shall  give  him  shall  be  in  him  a 
well.  It  IS  the  diflFerence  between  a  vessel  of  water 
and  a  spring,  between  a  cistern  and  a  river.  There 
18  little  or  no  energy  in  a  jug  of  water,  bnt  who  can 
measure  the  dynamics  of  a  spring?  "The  water 
that  I  shall  give  him  shall  be  in  him  a  weU  I »  When 
the  Lord  comes  into  the  life,  energy  is  born,  move- 
ment begins,  rivers  flow  I  "A  well!"  I  say  that 
the  fi^  suggests  the  impartation  of  inexhaustible 


MEN  OP  VIOLENCE  137 

energy,  life  with  unfathomable  resource;  it  portrays 
the  transition  from  impotence  to  violencL,  f JTZ! 
sionlew  existence  to  a  rushing,  dashing  exnberim^ 
that  takes  the  Kingdom  by  storm. 
And  have  I  not  seen  it  done  times  without  num- 

Znl  tf^'^'u  passionless  be- 

come the  nobly  panionatef  Have  I  not  seen  the 
Lord  make  His  violent  men?  Let  me  name  some 
of  the  elements  I  have  seen  added  to  life  1^  the  min- 
istry of  redeeming  grace,  and  we  will  judge  whether 
^.ese  do  not  furnish  the  equipment  of  sfro^T^ 
^umphant  men.  The  Lord  imparts  to  weak  i!!!; 
^^jon^ndecunyenessofaim.  Life  detaches  itself 
from  a  multiplicity  of  distractions  and  gathers 

TtfL'r''T'T'^'^'  ^--ofoneSC 

uvveaiin.    a  man  of  one  commanding 
spmtuj  ambition  shall  sit  with  the 

^    "  Thi.  one  thing  I  do."  and  in, he, 
rfte  conce««t,on  all  impotence  U  left  behifd. 
The  LaM  ,„p^  *"  P""<»J«»  "-en  and 

women  the  energy  of  rtrong  and  lively  feelinm 
S.ys  John  Calvin:  "The  Q^pe, 
mofons."   Andsoitd«.I  r^i»„«nfyZt^ 
o„r  hymn  book,  to  its  great  e=tp««l„, 

'7"""       f  ™'^' '»  »^  how  the  filing 

redeeming  We.    Sometimes  the  feeling 
Me  tosaed  lie  a  troubled  se.  at  midnight,  and  a<rZ 
-u^  ia  radian,  triumph  like  a  gW^us  S 


188     THE  THANSMGUHED  CHURCH 

anto  the  l.fe  the  deep,  are  b«*en  up,  „rf  ,be  p.«i.. 

>^ngthamt  comes  from  the  Mr-  ^mUing  of  the 

dmiml  Ue  «,  frequently  suSe,   .ne  nature  of  a„ 

Our  powew  lOT  ducordant,  fighting  at  Wrheada 
and  we  are  pulled  a  dozen  Afferent  w.T  S 
•ne  s  souls  are  like  an  orcheatral  band  Wo«^  ! 
eondnetor  appoars.    Every  inatr„„,ent  goeat^W 

And  some  men'a  souls  are  like  an  orehestra  wh» 
tie  condu«.r  W  appeared;  the  individual  libertvt 
ended,  and  all  the  inatrumenta  coK-perate  in  1« 

r    "  r '  """"""^  «.d  "all  that 

.s  wuhm  me  "  blesses  and  praises  God'a  holy  nam" 
And  lastly,  the  Lord  imparts  to  impotent  ITZ 
•amng  attribute  of  courage.  Cou^rirt^ 

Are  not  these  elements  whieh  I  have  named  tb. 
«in.pment  of  st^g  and  triumphant  m^J^^t' 

1  My,  on  he  authority  of  the  Word  of  GodTd 
by  the  teat^mony  of  human  experience,  thTii. 


MEN  OF  VKOJENCE  igg 

the  character  the  Lord  creates,  strong  men  endowed 
rj^M  f  brave  men  who  move  irre- 

T^Itt  "^-^^f^'  "  -en  of  violence,"  who 
take  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  by  force." 
"The  men  of  violence  take  it  by  force!"  Yes 
the  success  of  our  warfare  lies  in  our  taking  the 
offensive.    There  is  nothing  so  trying  to  the  morale 
and  endurance  of  troops  as  to  be  compelled  to  be  for 
ever  awaiting  an  attack.    The  moral  advantage  is 
"^"if^^^'^^^l^oSensWe.    "  The  men  of  vioLe 
t^e  It  by  force."   The  weakness  of  so  m.  ay  is  to 
be  found  just  here;,  they  are  always  on  the  defen- 
sive, and  they  never  join  the  rtorming-partv.  Thev 
do  not  "go  out,"  like  the  chivalrous  kni^t.  frZ 
Arthur's  table,  "  redressing  human  wro^  Thev 
await  the  enemy's  coming,  they  do  not  meet  him  on 
^ay    In  this  high  warfare  it  is  the  storming 
rho  wm.    «  The  men  of  violence  take  it  by 

vl^  *  #       J!^  ^""^  ^^'«es,  and  in  the 

very  offence  discover  our  security.   "  Then  the  Inter- 
preter took  bm,  and  led  him  up  toward  the  door  of 
the  palace;  and  behold,  at  the  door  stood  a  great 
«>mpany  of  men,  as  desirous  to  go  in,  but  durtt  not 
There  also  sat  a  man  at  a  little  distance  from  the 
d^,  at  a  tableside,  with  a  book  and  his  ink-horn 
before  hun,  to  take  the  name  of  him  that  should 
«»ter  therein;  he  saw  also  ihat  in  the  doorway  stood 
ma^y  men  in  armour  to  keep  it,  being  resolved  to 
^to  the  men  that  would  enter  what  hurt  and  mis- 
eluef  they  could.   At  last,  when  eva^  into  started 


190     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

back  for  fear  of  the  armed  men,  Chriatwii  saw  « 
man  of  a  very  stout  countenance  come  up  to  the 
inwi  that  sat  there  to  write,  saying:  '  Set  down  my 
Btme,  .ir'j  the  which,  when  he  had  done,  he  saw 
the  man  draw  hi«  sword,  and  put  a  helmet  upon  his 
head  and  rush  toward  the  door  upon  the  armed  men. 
who  laid  upon  him  with  deadly  force,  but  the  man, 
not  at  all  discouraged,  fell  to  cutting  and  hacW 
most  fiercely.    So  that,  after  he  had  received^ 
given  many  wounds  to  those  that  attempted  to  keep 
him  out  he  cut  his  way  throrgh  them  all,  and 
pressed  forward  into  the  palace;  at  which  there  was 
a  pleasant  voice  heard  from  those  that  were  within 
even  of  those  that  wdked  upon  the  top  of  the  palace! 
saying 

'Coau  inl  Come  inl 
*tWMl  glmy  thoD  Aali  win.*" 

"The  Kingdom  of  Heaven  suffereth  violence,  and 
tHe  men  of  violence  take  it  by  force." 

"Frwn  etrength  to  strength  go  on. 
Wrestle,  and  flg^t,  and  pi»y. 
Tread  all  the  powers  of  darknew  dsva 
And  wbi  the  well-fought  day." 


xvn 

PLOUGH-WORK 

LUKX  ix.  62. 

the  flgare  h«dle«ly.    It  w«  not  one  of  .  h,„.. 

.tlHr  "y  «»     which  would  have 

served  H.»  puq*-  u  wdl  «  the  rth««.  It  ™ 
crefullv  chosen,  to  expre»  a»  e»ph^  .£  ^ 
m.med,«e»eea  "  H«  hand  to  the  plough  I »  ThI 
P^ough-work  of  the  Kingdom!  Ploug^g  i. 
fc~"e.t  woric  in  the  toil  of  the  field.  S„^"  Z 
•^du.  comp„.tively  easy  ministry,  by  tbe  side  of 
lioaghu^  ,t  1,  ,  time  of  recreation.  Re.pin.  i, 
assocated  with  warmth  «>d  triumph,  andT  ' 

tome.   But  ploughing  is  heavy,  Uborioua  woA  •  it  i, 

~ed  with  the  disturbance  of  the  cooZ^ 
the  breahng  up  of  the  hard,  famUiar  surfacH^ 
P^v™,.u^  and  loosing  of  the  impermeable  1^ 

Ay,  ploughing  M  a  afrennoii.  labour,  primary  and 
ft.«dan>enta   And  ..  it  i,  in  the  Ki;gSoroT(^ 
Sowu>g  the  ,e«i  may  de„„,d  ^  .j^^  /y^; 

m 


19S     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


it  TOMj  be  as  wpCTacting  as  the  tdling  ci  a  pleasant 
itoxy,  or  a  cheery  ooiiTenation  by  the  fire^de.  Bvt 
to  drive  your  share  through  the  oonyentional,  to 
overturn  the  traditional,  to  pulverise  a  hard  and 
hoary  custom,  to  break  up  the  popular  and  well- 
trodden  expediency,  to  expose  the  subsoil  of  a  com- 
monplace, to  disturb  the  superficialities  and  external- 
ities of  human  life,  and  to  bring  to  bear  upon  the  hid- 
den depths  the  light  and  air  and  moisture  of  heaven — 
all  this  is  labour  demanding  bloody  sweat,  the  heavi- 
est work  in  tl^  Kingdom  of  Ood.  Ton  may  drop 
a  seed  upon  the  way-side,  it  will  do  no  harm,  but 
touch  the  common  ground  with  your  plough,  and 
there  arc  ten  thousand  guardians  of  the  traditional, 
massed  together  in  the  common  resistance  of  change. 
There  seems  to  be  a  deep  conservative  streak  in 
everybody,  and  instinctively  we  linger  fondly  upon 
the  old — ^the  old  home,  despite  its  inconvenienoes 
and  its  smaller  rooms,  the  old  hymn-book,  the  old 
form  of  service,  the  old  way  in  the  office — a  fond 
clinging  to  the  venerable,  and  I  think  the  adhesion 
is  frequently  legitimate,  healthy  and  good.  But  that 
same  conservatism  is  frequently  found  buttressing  an 
abuse,  and  it  is  often  our  pa.>sionate  dislike  of  a 
change  and  disturbance  which  constitutes  the  strong- 
est enemy  of  progress.  There  is  a  familiar  saying 
in  Yorkshire  that  the  more  you  disturb  a  rubbidi 
heap  the  ranker  is  the  oflFence,  and  the  proverb  is 
always  quoted  in  defence  of  the  stationary,  and  in 
opposition  to  any  policy  of  advancement   Now  the 


PLOUGH-WORK 


m 


ploughshare  is  the  minister  of  change,  of  disturb- 
ance, of  upheaval,  and  the  heavenly  ploughman  is 
confronted  by  ten  tbonatnd  massed  antagonisms  which 
immt  hia  labour  witb  all  tbe  dignity  of  a  chivalrous 
enuade.  Plough-work  ia  therefore  veiy  heavy  wo  A, 
pioneer  work,  often  very  lonely  woric,  and,  taken 
altogether,  the  most  exacting  work  in  the  Kingdom 
of  God.  "No  man,  having  put  his  hand  to  the 
plough,  and  looking  back,  is  fit  for  the  Kinadom 
of  God."  ^ 

Who  were  these  diadplea  to  whom  these  warning 
words  were  spoken?   None  of  them  were  men  of 
recognised  culture,  or  of  wealth,  or  of  oonspicnona 
rank.    But,  once  settled  down  to  their  work,  they 
proved  themselves  to  be  men  of  masculine  hand- 
grip, of  magnificent  tenacity  of  purpose,  who,  once 
they  had  begun  upon  a  field,  would  see  the  furrow 
through.    And  to  what  unpromising  str  ^chesofland 
they  had  to  turn  their  plough  I    Just     ink  of  two 
or  three  of  the  irmirbomid  fields  to  which  the  early 
apostles  had  got  to  put  their  haada.   There  was  the 
field  of  Jewish  tradil'-.!  ilism.    VYhy,  it  was  like 
trying  to  plough  a  field  oi  brass.    It  had  been  made 
hard  and  unreceptive  by  the  formalisms  of  a  score 
of  generations,  and  it  wore  the  superficial  sheen  of 
a  shallow  and  polished  Pharisaism.    No  harder  field 
has  the  ploughman  of  the  Kingdom  ever  faced.  And 
yet  to  this  field  he  must  direct  his  plough;  he  must 
turn  up  the  subsoil  of  its  formal  and  legalised  life, 
he  most  pulverise  its  prejudices,  and  be  must  expose 


194     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

its  innermost  and  better  depths  to  the  fertilising 
ministry  of  God's  redeeming  grace.  What  a  work 
It  was!    What  a  terrific  disturbance  it  involved  I 

The  ploughman  who  attempts  it  shall  be  beaten  with 
the  flail  from  his  own  threshing-floor!  "In  the 
world  ye  shall  have  tribuation,  but  be  of  good  cheer, 
I  have  overcome  the  world." 

And  there  was  the  field  of  Grecian  ffistheticism. 
imnk  of  Athens  as  a  sphere  for  the  Christian 
ploughman.    You  have  refinement,  you  have  accom- 
plishments, you  have  a  stately  and  luxurious  ease, 
but  you  have  no  healthy,  bounding  vitality  in  the 
secret  depths  of  the  life.    At  this  time  Athens  was 
not  a  hving  heart,  but  a  polished  stone.    And  to  this 
fie  d  the  ploughman  of  the  Kingdom  had  to  coii:e, 
wiOi  his  ministry  of  upheaval,  turning  up  the  deeper 
self,  stimng  up  the  deeper  hunger  and  the  deeper 
thirst.    And  the  ploughman  came,  and  he  came  of 
an  inferior  people,  and  from  a  distant  and  obscure 
province,  and  he  drove  his  share  into  the  benumbed 
-to  of  this  astonished  people.    Astonished?  Yes 
as  princes  and  elders  were  astonished  in  Bethel,  when 
the  herdman  Amos  came  from  the  hamlet  Tekoa 
and  drove  the  share  of  prophetic  warning  into  their 
soddened  and  luxurious  life;  astonished,  as  Sir 
Phihp  Warwick  and  many  others  were  astonished, 
when  a  farmer  named  Oliver  Cromwell  came  from 
Huntingdon,  and  stood  amid  the  refinements  of  the 
English  Parliament,  stood  there,  "  in  a  plain  doth 
suit,  made  by  an  ill  country  tailor,"  and  spake  to  the 


PLOUGH-WORK 


195 


assembled  representatives  "  with  voice  sharp  and 
untunablc,  but  with  eloquence  full  of  fervour."  So 
came  there  a  ploughman  to  hard  and  polished  Athens, 
"one  whose  bodily  presence  was  weak  and  con- 
temptible," but  who,  in  the  strength  of  the  Spirit  of 
God,  drove  his  awakening  evangel  into  the  very 
depths  of  her  secret  need. 

And  there  was  the  field  of  Roman  materialism. 
What  a  piece  of  land  for  the  plough — hardened  by 
power,  by  wealth,  by  pomp,  by  victory !  And  there 
came  a  ploughman!  He  came  along  the  AppialJ^ 
way,  but,  as  if  to  make  his  weakness  still  more 
manifest,  he  came  not  as  a  freeman,  but  in  the 
custody  of  an  Imperial  ^ard.  And  yet  he  came  to 
plough !  The  conjunction  is  tremendous — ^this  aged 
ploughman  with  bent  back,  but  with  alert  and  eager 
spirit,  coming  to  plough  his  furrow  through  tho 
amazing  antagonisms  of  Imperial  Rome.  And  ho 
ploughed  it,  and  the  influence  of  that  upheaval  en- 
riches the  life  of  England  to-day. 

But  we  need  not  go  back  to  apostolic  times  in 
order  to  discover  heavy  fields  and  fine  ploughmen. 
Later  times  have  been  glorified  by  the  presentation 
of  equally  burdensome  opportunities,  and  by  the 
possession  of  equally  heroic  and  determined  men. 
I  think  of  Henry  Martyn,  that  brilliant  Cambridge 
Wrangler,  grasping  the  coveted  honours  of  his  be- 
loved University,  and  yet  strangely  hungry  in  the 
hour  of  his  academic  triumph.  "  I  was  surprised  to 
find  thftt  I  had  grasped  a  shftdow!"  Ah,  but  i% 


196     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

was  a  surprise  of  grtce,  a  blessed  disappointment 

inspired  by  the  Holy  Ghost.    "The  Spirit  of  the 
Lord  bloweth  upon  it,"  and  the  coveted  glory  fades 
like  the  withered  grass.    It  was  a  gracious  disil- 
lusionment, for  Henry  Martyn's  eyes  were  now  lifted 
far  above  scholastic  prizes  to  the  all-satisfying  "  prize 
of  the  high  caUing  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord." 
Having  gazed  upon  the  glory  of  the  Lord  his  eyes 
were  washed  to  discern  the  vastness  of  the  Lord's 
untilled  and  fruitless  fields,  and  he  turned  his  con- 
secrated life  to  India.    What  a  field  to  plough! 
Head  Amy  Carmichael's  saddening  and  yet  inspiring 
book  on  "  Things  as  they  are  in  India."    Oh,  the 
cold,  chilling,  rainy  desolation  of  it  all!    Oh'  the 
cruelty,  the  heartbreak,  the  cryless,  soaking  sorrow 
the  unoonsoled  and  hopeless  pain  I    Things  were  no 
better  in  Henry  Martyn's  time,  and  it  was  to  this 
dark,  heavy,  soddened  field  that  this  young  Univer- 
sity man  turned  the  point  of  his  share.    He  put  his 
hands  to  the  plough,  and  with  that  immortal  word 
upon  his  hps  which  expressed  both  vow  and  prayer. 
Now,  let  ine  burn  out  for  God!"  he  began  his 
lonely  work.    Henry  Martyn  is  worth  thinking  about 
If  you  want  a  companion  in  the  heroic  life.  He 
ploughed  away  at  the  furrow,  ploughed  away,  and 
even  when  lUness  came,  and  the  sentence  of  death  was 
m  him,  and  his  friends  beseeched  him  to  come  home 
and  rest,  "  he  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  completely 
abandoning  the  work,"  to  which  he  had  given  his 
Me,  and  «  so  he  went  to  Persia  that  he  might  revise 


PLOUGH-WORK 


197 


his  Persian  New  Testament  among  the  very  people 
for  whom  it  was  prepared."  No  "looking  back" 
from  the  plough !  No  relinquishing  the  handles  even 
for  a  holiday!  Ay,  and  we,  too,  have  got  a  living 
ploughman  whom  we  cannot  entice  home  for  a  holi- 
day !  We  have  cooeyed  to  him,  we  have  hallooed  to 
him,  but  Griffith  John  away  in  China  moves  on  in 
the  furrow !  We  would  shower  our  honours  on  him, 
but  he  just  gratefully  smiles  in  the  midst  of  the 
hopeful  field.  The  Chairmanship  of  the  Congre- 
gational Union  was  offered  to  him,  and  he  quietly 
replied,  "Send  me  oat  more  ploughmen  I"  These 
are  the  men  who  preserve  the  race  degenetacy 
and  putrefaction.  They  are  "the  salt  of  the 
earth." 

I  think  of  James  Qilmour.  I  think  of  the  wild, 
far-stretching  field  to  which  he  addressed  his  uncom- 
panioned  life.  Get  the  size  of  the  field.  Mongolia 
stretches  from  the  Sea  of  Japan  on  the  east  to 
Turkestan  on  the  west,  a  distance  of  three  thousand 
miles,  and  from  the  southern  boundary  of  Asiatic 
Russia  to  the  great  wall  of  China,  a  distance  of  nine 
hundred  miles.  Into  that  mi^ty  field  put  down  a 
single  man  and  let  him  attempt  single-handed  the 
heavy  work  of  evangelising  it  for  Christ.  Again, 
I  say,  "  What  a  field !  "  and  again  I  say,  "  What  a 
ploughman  1  "  I  greatly  like  that  first  entry  in  his 
diary  when  he  had  just  got  his  share  in  the  uncut 
field :  "  Astir  by  daybreak.  Made  ponidge  and  tea." 
(How  like  John  Tauler,  the  mystic,  in  its  combina- 


198     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

tion  of  homely  duty  and  sublime  task  I)  "Made 
porridge  and  tea.  Several  huts  in  sight."  (Do  you 
feel  the  thrill  of  that  ?  These  few  huts,  the  fringe  of 
the  field,  the  beginnings  of  the  three  thousand  miles ') 
Several  huts  in  sight.  Oh,  let  me  live  for  Christ, 
and  feel  day  by  day  the  blessedness  of  a  will  given 

unthinkable  loneliness.    "My  eyes  have  filled  with 
tears  frequently  these  last  few  days  in  spite  of 
myself !    Oh,  the  intense  loneliness  of  Christ's  life  I 
He  bore  it !    O  Jesus,  let  me  follow  in  Thy  steps." 
in  after  days  was  there  much  to  cheer  him  in  the 
furrow  he  had  cut?    "In  the  shape  of  converts  I 
have  seen  no  results.    I  have  not,  as  far  as  I  am 
awa«B,  seen  any  one  who  even  wanted  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian.    He  writes  again:  "  Oh,  if  things  would  only 
move!"   .iow  then?   Did  he  turn  back?   Oh,  no 
he  never  looked  back!    He  found  his  suflSciency  in 
his  Saviour,  and  he  died  in  the  furrow.    In  oii  of 
his  last  letters  to  his  brother  he  wrote,  "  In  Jesus  is 
aU  fulness.    Supply  yourself  from  Him.  Heaven's 
ahead,  brother^  Hurrah!"    I  know  of  no  more 
"HnrM^'';  literature  than  this 

ti.  r  i  7"?  "^""'^  ^^'^  ploughman,  cut- 
^g^h.  day's  far«,w  in  the  tremendous  field  of 

Well,  we  are  not  out  in  Mongolia,  in  India,  or 
among  the  islands  of  the  South  Seas:  but  can  w^  do 
^ythmg  to  help  the  man  at  the  plough?  Let  me 
reii  you.    There  was  a  man  in  our  own  country  who 


PLOUGH-WORK 


199 


put  his  hands  to  a  piece  of  difficult  and  obnoxious 
work.  J ames  Stansfield  was  a  member  of  the  Liberal 
Hinistiy,  and  for  many  years  represented  my  native 
town.    He  resigned  his  place  in  the  Cabinet  that  he 
might  take  up  the  honourable  but  unpopular  cause 
of  restoring  honour  tc  the  degraded  womanhood  of 
our  land.    It  was  a  tremendous  task,  exposing  him 
to  the  opprobrium  and  contumely  cf  his  fellows,  an  i 
for  many  years  "  he  wa )  despised  and  rejected  of 
men,  a  man  of  sorrow  and  acquainted  with  grLi/- 
But  my  -nirpose  just  now  is  to  say  that  when  he  was 
delivered  from  Cabinet  discipline,  and  made  his  first 
appearance,  palo  and  nervous,  in  the  Colston  Hall  at 
Bristol,  he  passed  a  little  note  dong  the  platform  to 
Mrs.  Josephine  Butler,  and  on  the  note  were  these 
words :  "  I  am  so  thankful  for  the  womeirs  prayers." 
Was  not  that  strengthening  the  ploughman  ?  David 
Hill,  the  Methodist  missionary  in  China,  once  7'rote 
in  his  diary,  "  I  feel  very  buoyant  this  morning  "— 
shall  we  say  he  was  whistling  at  the  plough — "  I  feel 
very  buoyant  this  morning:  somebody  must  be  ar- 
dently prayinr;  for  me  at  home !  "    Yes.  it  is  true. 
By  prayer  we  can  establish  the  hrnds  of  the  distant 
ploughman ;  vou  and  I  can  know  "  the  fellowship  of 
His  sufferings,"  and,  in  the  bonds  of  Holy  Com- 
munion you  and  I  and  the  far-off  ploughman  can  c/en 
now  meet  together  at  the  mercy-seat  of  God. 

But  there  is  plough-work  needed  nearer  home. 
Here  in  our  own  land  there  is  hard  and  intractable 
ground  to  be  broken  up.    This  hard,  unpromising 


«00     THE  TRANSFIGUBED  CHUaCH 

ground  is  not  the  peculiar  characteristic  of  anj  one 
particular  class  of  people.    There  are  th©  masses  of 
the  poor,  hardened  by  the  winter  of  their  discontent, 
or  partially  petrified  by  a  still  more  perilous  in- 
difference.   Their  life  is  trodden  and  crushed  by 
the  iron  feet  of  poverty  and  by  a  multitude  of  petty 
cares.    And  the  work  of  the  Lord's  ploughman  is 
just  this— to  turn  up  tho  subsoil,  to  lift  the  buried 
self  into  the  light,  to  bring  their  hidden  potencies 
under  the  marvellous  influences  of  God»s  redeeming 
grace.    Hard  work  for  the  ploughman  ?    Ay,  heart- 
breaking work!    And  there  are  the  classes,  hardened 
by  the  bright  and  lengthy  summer  of  their  opulence. 
The  ground  of  their  life  is  baked  hard  by  their  con- 
trned  noon.    The  ploughman  who  understakes  this 
work  must  have  a  firm  hand  and  a  stout  heart.  A 
book  was  recently  published  entitled  «  Seven  Years' 
Hard."    It  describes  the  arduous  ministry  of  a 
worthy  ploughman  who  drove  bib  share  for  seven 
years  through  the  AelC  of  a  London  slum.    I  wish 
some  one  would  give     a  book  on  plough-work  amon^ 
the  suburbs,  among  the  privileged  fields  of  ihe  well- 
to^o.    I  can  imagine  that  such  a  story  would  have 
to  be  written  in  blood.    But  be  that  as  it  may,  to  go 
to  rich  or  poor,  be  they  hardened  by  luxury  or  by 
want,  and  seek  to  upheave  the  sub-soil  in  both— the 
deeper,  better,  buried  self— is  the  work  of  the  Lord's 
ploughman,  and  is  a  most  Christly  thing. 

"Down  in  the  human  heart,  cnished  by  the  tempter. 
Feelings  he  buried,  which  grace  can  mtorA." 


PLOUGH-WORK 


tOl 


But  away  from  the  individual  life  of  the  people,  in 
the  common  and  corporate  life,  there  is  also  plough- 
work  to  be  done.  What  upheavals  are  demanded  in 
the  commonwealth  I  And  yet  it  is  burdensome  and 
exhausting  work.  Any  man  who  puts  his  hand  to- 
the  plough  in  the  field  of  social  reform  will  find  that 
he  has  to  encounter  a  rigid  and  frigid  conservatism. 
I  do  not  use  the  word  with  a  political  significance, 
but  to  express  that  multiplicity  of  iron-bound  tradi- 
tions and  of  vested  interests  wLich  permeate  the  soil 
of  the  common  life  like  wire  entanglements,  and 
which  fetter  and  embarrasf  the  progress  of  the  re- 
forming plough. 

What,  then,  shall  the  ploughman  do  in  his  slow, 
disappointing  and  laborious  work?  Shall  he  turn 
back,  and  leave  his  idle  sht.fe  to  rust?  Shall  he 
leave  the  rich  and  the  poor,  with  their  manifold 
indifference,  and  shall  he  leave  the  great  broad  field 
of  possible  social  redemption;  -hall  he  leave  his 
Sunday  school  class,  and  those  two  or  three  feet  of 
furrow  which  he  has  cut  in  an  obscure  place:  and 
shall  he  hie  him  away  Lome,  and  shelter  himself  in 
cushioned  ease?  "No  man,  having  put  his  hand 
to  the  plough,  and  looking  back,  is  fit  for  the  King- 
dom c '  God !  »  Ay,  that  is  the  peril  of  the  heavenly 
ploughman,  the  danger  of  "  looking  back."  Get  your 
imagination  upon  the  figure.  It  is  the  figure  of  a 
man  who  has  got  his  hands  upon  the  plough,  but 
who  has  lost  the  forward  cast  from  his  eyes.  He  is  ' 
trying  to  go  forward  while  looking  backward.   He  is 


«0«     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

seeking  to  embodj  the  spirit  of  progree»  while  he 

hugs  the  vision  of  retrospect.    He  is  going  one  wav 
and  looking  another!    Xow,  that  cannot  last.  Thfl 
Master  says  such  retrospects  are  disabling.  They 
unfit  a  man  for  the  work  of  the  Kingdom  of  God. 
And  for  this  reason,  that  ultimately  one's  goings  are 
determined  by  one's  lookings.    In  the  long  run,  we 
turn  our  feet  in  the  direction  of  our  gaze  The 
ploughman,  who  begins  to  look  backward,  first  of  all 
spoils  his  work  and  cuts  a  crooked  furrow,  and  then 
he  turns  away  from  the  work  he  has  spoiled.  It 
matters  not  what  it  is  that  deflects  the  vision- 
whether  It  is  that  we  are  dismayed  by  the  difficulties 
that  confront  us,  and  we  turn  a  lingering  and  covet- 
ous glance  to  the  ease  we  have  left  behind :  or  whether 
like  Demas,  we  are  seduced  by  the  glittering  prizes 
of  this  world,  and  we  lose  the  fascination  of  the 
golden  crowns  of  the  ripened  ears;  or  whether  we  are 
tired  of  being  alone  in  the  furrow,  and  we  seek  the 
genial  company  of  the  vast  and  idle  crowd.    I  say  it 
matters  not  what  deflects  our  forward  vision,  the 
backward  look  begins  the  backward  turning,  and 
havens  our  disendowment  in  the  Kingdom  of  God. 

We  are  saved  by  hope  » ;  yes,  and  we  save  by  hope, 
we  cut  our  furrow  in  hope,  we  work  for  the  harvest 
m  hope,  in  the  power  of  a  Ion?  and  forward-cest 
expectancy,  and  "  no  man,  having  put  his  hand  to 
the  plough  and  looking  back,  is  fit  for  the  Kingdom 
of  God,"  for  the  work  of  the  Kingdom  he  canlever 


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PLOUGH-WORK 


SOS 


What,  then,  is  to  be  the  inspiration  of  the  plough- 
man?  He  must  be  moved  by  more  than  impulse, 
for  the  freshness  and  ecstasy  may  pass,  and  leave 
him  sad  and  forlorn.    His  constraint  must  be  more 
than  an  ideal,  for  some  day  the  ideal  may  mock  and 
chill  him  with  the  impossibility  of  its  own  attain- 
ment.   No,  to  a  higher  inspiration  still  must  the 
ploughman  turn,  even  to  the  unfailing  companionship 
of  the  ever  faithful  Lord.    There  need  be  no  lonely 
furrow.    Drive  in  thy  share;  thy  Lord  is  with  thee; 
with  thee  in  the  very  strength  of  thine  arm,  and  in 
the  very  purpose  and  vision  of  thine  heart.    And  if 
there  is  any  man  or  woman,  some  fellow-labourer  of 
the  Lord,  who  is  now  standing  doubting  in  the  fur- 
row,  the  unfinished  furrow,  and  looking  back,  let  me 
urge  such  to  set  their  hands  to  the  work  again,  and 
fix  their  heart  upon  the  steadying  fellowship  of  the 
Christ.    And  when  all  is  over,  and  "  curfew  tolls  the 
kneU  of  parting  day,"  and  the  tired  ploughman 
"  homeward  plods  his  weary  way,"  it  shall  once  again 
he  told  in  the  fair  abode  of  light  how  a  full  day's 
work  has  led  to  the  grander  labours  of  the  etenud 
rest 


xvni 

THE  ENERGY  OF  FAITH 

"  Verily  I  say  unto  you.  if  ye  have  faith  as  a  grain  of 

to  yonder  plain:  and  it  .Imll  rwnove:  and  nothing  b, 
inpowible  unto  you."— Maw.  x»ii.  20.  «      »*  «• 

And  this  great  and  optimistic  evangel  was  spoken 
not  to  men  who  were  marching  with  swinging  jubi- 
lant stride  in  the  paths  of  victory,  but  to  men  who 
were  temporarily  disheartened  under  the  experience 
of  defeat.    "  Nothing  succeeds  like  success";  it  is 
easy  to  be  an  optimist,  and  optimistic  counsel  is  con- 
genial,  when  one  has  the  "  open  sesame,"  when  the 
iron  gate  swings  back  at  one's  approach,  and  the  ob- 
structive mountains  sii    into  a  plain.    In  such  con- 
ditions It  is  easy  to  engage  in  the  winning  shout, 
^ut  18  there  anything  more  pathetic  and  depressimr 
than  the  spectacle  of  men  baffled  in  a  noble  enterpr^ 
and  retiring  beaten  from  the  field?    What  can  be 
more  pathetic  than  to  have  watched  some  chivalrous 
knight,  riding  forth  in  the  promising  dawn,  with 
waving  p.ume  and  glittering  lance,  returning,  in  the 
melancholy  evening,  torn,  bespattered,  and  ashamed, 
leaving  the  flippant  enemy  triumphant  on  the  field? 
And  the  tragedy  of  the  home-coming  is  aU  the  deeper 

204 


THE  ENERGY  OF  FAITH  SOS 

and  darker  when  the  waj  winds  through  ranks  of 
oonteinptuous  crowds,  who  assail  the  heaton  knight 
wJth  ribaldry  and  jeers.    Such  was  the  pitiable  con- 
dition of  this  little  company  of  the  first  knights  of 
the  Lord's  Kingdom.    They  had  gone  forth  with 
flying  banners,  gazed  at  by  sullen  and  silent  crowds: 
they  crept  back  with  drooping  banners,  to  the  laugh- 
ing accompaniment  of  the  crowd's  contempt.  They 
had  met  the  enemy,  and  they  had  been  overwhelmed 
in  the  fight    They  had  gone  forth  to  battle,  and  they 
had  been  driven  from  the  field.    « I  brought  him  to 
Thy  disciples,  and  they  could  not  owe  him  I "  Let 
ns  get  the  scene  into  the  imagination.    Here  is  a 
man  devil-possessed,  writhing  in  the  torment  of  his 
awful  bondage.    And  here  are  the  expulsive  knights 
of  the  Kingdom.    And  around  them  is  a  great  crowd, 
the  majority  of  them  hostile,  many  of  them  cynical] 
and  all  of  them  curious,  watching  this  mysterious 
encounter  with  devouring  interest.    And  the  knights 
of  the  Kingdom  get  to  work.   They  command,  but 
they  are  not  obeyed!   One  after  another  tries  his 
power,  but  his  power  is  proved  to  be  weakness.  The 
knights  become  more  vehement,  their  imperative  rises 
to  a  scream,  but  the  devil  remains  enthroned !  Time 
after  time  is  the  attempt  repeated  amid  the  mut- 
tered comments  of  the  suspicious  crowd,  and  time 
after  time  are  they  repulsed,  until  at  last  these 
muchKsIaiming  knights  have  to  confess  their  failure, 
and,  to  the  accompaniment  of  hiu^hter,  they  retire 
•ngrily  or  silently  from  the  field,  leaving  the  devil  in 


«06     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


powewion.   «I  brought  him  to  Thy  diM»plei,  and 
thoy  pould  not  cure  him.** 
The  victim  was  poesemed  of  a  devfl.   I  wiD  only 

pause  to  say  T  accept  the  explanation  of  his  bondage. 
Some  malign  presence  was  making  this  man's  life 
chaotic,  and  was  driving  him  according  to  its  own 
malicious  whim.    There  am  i)hcnomcna  in  human 
life  which  cannot  be  otherwise  explained.    I  cannut 
explain  mysterions  emergencies— in  my  own  mind 
«nd  soul— except  on  the  theory  of  subtle  and  active 
presences,  who  seek  by  illicit  snare  and  fascination  to 
entice  me  into  degrading  bondage.    The  glamour  of 
the  world  does  not  account  for  them.    The  gravita- 
tion of  the  flesh  is  an  insufficient  explanation.  They 
are  only  interpreted  in  the  Scriptural  suggestion  that 
"our  warfare  is  not  against  flesh  and  blood,  but 
against  principalities,  against  powers,  against  the 
world-rulers  >f  this  darkness,  against  the  spiritual 
hosts  of  wickedness  in  the  heavenly  places."   But  it 
is  not  necessary  for  my  present  purpose  to  win  your 
assent  to  any  particular  theory:  it  is  sufficient  to 
insist  that  here  was  an  evil  in  possession,  exercising 
horrible  control,  paralysing  its  pitiable  victim,  and 
the  knights  of  the  Lord's  Kingdom  were  incompetent 
to  its  expulsion.    The  evil  was  left  on  the  field  I 

Now,  our  modem  experiences  very  r.^Jily  lead  us 
to  place  ourselves  in  the  depressed  ranks  of  the 
defeated  knights.  Who  is  there  who  has  not  set  out 
to  evict  an  established  evil,  and  who  has  not  encoun- 
tered  bitter  and  ultimate  defeat?   It  may  be  that 


THE  ENEBOY  OP  FATTR 


the  evil  possession  was  in  your  own  body,  or  in  your 
mind,  or  soul,  or,  maybe,  it  was  housed  in  the  life  of 
your  chad,  or  in  the  life  of  your  friend,  or  perhaps  it 
w«s  lodged  in  the  corporate  body  in  the  shape  of 
some  social  tyranny,  tome  induatrial  diaease,  some 
national  vice— whatever  it  be.  and  wherever  its  home, 
yon  have  faced  tie  intruder  with  the  purpose  of  ex- 
pulsion, and  you  have  signally  and  utterly  failed. 

And  now  it  is  high  time  we  hear  our  Master's 
explanation  of  the  failure.    "Then  came  the  dis- 
ciples to  Jesus  apart,  and  said,  Why  could  not  we 
cast  it  out?  And  He  said  unto  them.  Because  of 
your  unbelief  I"   There  is  no  uncertainty  in  the 
diagnosis.    The  cause  is  not  complicated.   It  ia 
single  and  simple.    "  Unbelief  I "   There  had  been 
a  want  of  confidence.    There  was  doubt  at  the  very 
heart  of  the  disciple's  eflFort.    There  was  a  cold  fear 
at  the  very  core  of  his  enterprise.    He  vent  out  with 
a  waving  banner,  but  the  flag  in  his  heart    as  droop- 
ing I   "Because  of  your  unbelief  I"   Our  Lord  is 
not  referring  to  unbelief  in  any  particular  doctrine, 
but  rather  to  the  general  attitude  and  outlook  of  the 
soul.    There  was  no  strong,  definite  confidence  in 
the  disciple,  an      ch  unbelief  always  ensures  paral- 
ysis and  defeat.    Power  belongs  to  the  positive:  our 
confidences  generate  our  force.    Energy  is  not  bom 
of  denials,  but  of  affirmations.    Denials  are  only 
empty  cartridges,  possessed  of  no  explosive  strength. 
^ogHhouB  are  not  potencies,  even  though  we  have 
sufficient  to  load  a  ship.   Wtat  do  we  believe! 


808     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

What  is  the  range  and  quality  of  our  confidence  f 
What  amount  of  faith  is  there  at  the  heart  of  our 

crusade?    The  answer  to  these  questions  wiU  give 
the  measure  of  our  strength,  and  will  reveal  to  us 
our  possibilities  in  the  ministry  of  expulsion.  Faith 
w  energy!    Always  and  everywhere  faith  is  force. 
Take  an  advocate  at  the  Bar.    His  duty  to  his  client 
will  endow  him  with  a  certain  force  and  persuasive- 
ness of  speech,  even  though  he  has  no  confidence  in 
the  inherent  justice  of  the  cause  he  advocates.  But 
let  It  be  further  assumed  that  he  believes  his  own 
brief,  that  he  has  a  deep,  unshaken  confidence  in  the 
rectitude  of  his  cause,  that  he  has  entire  and  absolute 
assurance  m  his  client,  and  what  tremendous  heritage 
of  power  attaches  itself  to  his  attack  or  defence  f  It 
faith  that  tells.    It  is  not  otherwise  in  the  Senate, 
i^et  a  politician  support  a  measure  for  the  removal 
of  some  injustice,  let  him  do  it,  not  because  of  his 
conviction  in  its  inherent  right,  but  with  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  votes  and  popular  distinction,  and  his  sup- 
port  IS  altogether  unimpressive  and  futile.    But  let  a 
man  speak  with  faith,  with  a  solid  core  of  definite 
confidence  burning  in  his  soul,  and  the  glowing  en- 
erp  of  his  soul  will  get  into  his  words,  and  his 
numsters  will  be  a  flaming  fire.    It  is  faith  that 
tells.    1  need  not  elaborate  the  matter.    On  familiar 
planes  the  principle  is  evident.    Faith  is  energy. 

#  S     ''f  ^'^        ^^^^  the  works 

Of  Uod?      This  is  the  work  of  God,  that  ye  be- 
lieve!   Energy  for  all  aork  is  there. 


THE  ENERGY  OF  FAITH 


S09 


But  there  are  different  degrees  and  qualities  of 
faith.    There  is  faith  in  oneself,  and  such  faith  is  by 
no  means  unacoompanied  with  power.    N"o  one  can 
read  the  life  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  from  his  ob- 
scure early  days  in  Corsica  to  the  brilliant  days  when 
he  strode  across  Europe  like  a  Colossus,  without  be- 
ing impressed  with  the  amazing  energy  which  at- 
tached to  an  audacious  self-confidence.    He  fought 
for  no  principle,  he  had  no  ideals,  Le  was  allured 
by  no  constant  and  noble  ambition.    His  confidence 
was  not  in  a  cause,  but  in  himself,  and  hia  confidence 
generated  a  marvellous  strength.   But  there  is  a 
faith  and  confidence  higher  than  this,  and  endowed 
with  a  corresponding  larger  dynamic  and  resource. 
There  is  a  faith  in  principles,  in  causes,  in  the 
tenacity  of  truth,  in  the  indestructibility  of  virtue, 
in  the  invincibility  of  the  righteous  order  of  the 
world.    Such  faith  is  uninHuenced  by  bribes,  undis- 
mayed by  majorities,  untrouUed  by  threats  and 
frowns:  it  tightly  holds  to  the  truth,  and  confidently 
waits  its  day.    But  stiU  higher  is  the  plane  to  which 
we  can  rise  in  the  ascending  gradient  of  faith. 
There  is  a  faith  in  the  living  Ood,  a  faith  in  His 
love  and  good  will,  a  confidence  in  His  blessed 
Presence  and  companionship,  an  assurance  that  we 
are  one  with  Him  in  the  sacred  inheritance,  and  that 
in  Him  we  are  partakers  of  all  the  mighty  ministries 
of  grace.    That  is  the  sublimest  of  all  faiths,  and  it 
carries  with  it  the  most  tremendous  of  all  energies, 
for  it  has  behind  it  the  omnipotence  of  God. 


210     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


"  Faith  as  a  grain/'  uprooting  a  mountain!  Such 

is  its  mighty  energy!  I  do  not  shrink  from  the 
startling  conjunction.  Our  scientists  are  telling  us 
that  there  is  energy  stored  in  one  grain  of  radium 
"ufficient  to  raise  five  hundred  tons  a  mile  high.  And 
I  am  not  daunted  when  our  Master,  speaking  of  a 
finer  power  than  radium,  a  subtler  energy,  a  spiritual 
force,  teU-  ua  of  the  enormous  energy,  the  miracle- 
working  energy  that  is  housed  in  faith  of  a  supreme 
quality,  even  though  it  be  only  "  as  a  grain  of  mustard 
seed."  "Ye  shall  say  to  this  mountain,  Remove 
hence!"  Is  that  to  be  taken  literally  or  figura- 
tively ?  Probably  figuratively,  for  the  words  appear 
to  be  quoted  from  a  familiar  proverb  which  was  used 
to  express  any  vast  and  difficult  achievement.  To 
start  a  gigantic  enterprise  was  spoken  of  as  an  at- 
tempt to  uproot  a  mountain.  But  why  did  I  say, 
"probably  figuratively,"  as  though  there  was  any 
lingering  doubt  about  the  matter?  Why  not  have 
finally  disposed  of  the  question  by  declaring  that  the 
energy  of  faith  has  no  dominion  outside  spirit,  and 
that  its  decrees  do  not  run  in  the  material  world? 
Because  that  is  precisely  what  I  cannot  say.  We 
are  dimly  gleaming  that  spiritual  energies  may  have 
more  currency  than  we  hare  ever  dreamed.  We  are 
discovering  more  and  more  clearly  that  spiritual  faith 
and  temper  have  much  to  do  with  physical  health, 
and  that  our  doctors  are  comparatively  impotent 
when  the  soul  has  a  malady,  or  when  there  is  present 
"  a  grief  that  saps  the  mind."    I  believe  that  many 


THE  ENERGY  OP  FAITH 


811 


ail  ailment  would  vanish  if  the  unbelief  went  out  of 
the  soul,  and  if  in  its  place  there  came  a  sweet, 
sound,  strong  confidence  in  the  Lord.    "Ye  shall 
say  unto  this  mountain,  Bemove  hence  1  .  .  .  audit 
shall  remove! "   And  I  am  equally  convinced  that 
the  exercise  of  a  vigorous  faith  in  God  has  more 
dominion  than  we  have  yet  realised  in  securing  the 
entire  expulsion  of  impure  bodily  habits  and  lusts. 
Here  is  a  man  or  woman  possessed  by  the  unclean 
devil  of  drunkenness.    How  can  the  devil  be  ex- 
pelled ?    Well,  we  commonly  say  that  it  is  a  disease, 
and  it  must  be  treated  as  a  disease.    Yes,  but  how 
shall  we  treat  it?   A  physical  mountain  can  only 
be  removed  by  physical  means.    Are  you  absolutely 
sure  of  that  ?    The  doctor  shall  prescribe  medicine. 
Very  well.    The  food  shall  be  prudently  selected, 
and  all^  stimulating  diet  shall  be  tabooed.  Very 
good.    His  environment  shall  be  changed.    Ah,  are 
you  sure  that  you  are  now  altogether  on  the  material 
plane?   Are  you  not  coming  to  another  domain? 
Are  you  not  bringing  mystic  forces  into  the  ministry  ? 
He  must  have  a  new  hobby  I    What  now  is  your 
drift  ?    His  society  must  be  refined,  and  his  reading 
must  be  of  a  more  restful  and  sedative  type.  Has 
not  the  treatment  of  the  physical  mountain  now  left 
the  purely  physical  means?    I  do  not  disparage 
these  minor  ministries,  for  I  regard  them  all  as  the 
beneficent  gifts  of  God.    But,  above  and  beyond  all 
these,  sometimes  entirely  apart  and  independent  of 
them,  I  would  exalt  the  marveUotu  power  of  the 


Slf     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


grace  of  Qod,  acting  through  the  means  of  alert 
and  confident  faith.  I  say  that  in  these  regions, 
even  the  regions  of  fleshly  hahit  and  passion,  faith 

has  removed  mountains.  I  have  known  the  craving 
for  drink  annihilated  in  an  hour  by  the  tremendous 
spiritual  resources  commanded  by  faith,  and  even  if 
the  instance  stood  alone,  which  is  by  no  means  the 
case,  it  affords  a  glimpse  of  a  world  of  spiritual 
dynamics  which  we  have  not  yet  used  or  even 
realised. 

And  so  it  is  in  the  entire  mountain-range  of  hu- 
man diflSculty  and  enterprise.  Faith  is  energy,  en- 
ergy by  which  the  mountain  i^;  to  be  removed.  En- 
terprises born  in  doubt  are  smothered  at  birth.  Can 
we  sweeten  and  purify  our  streets  ?  Everything  de- 
pends upon  our  faith.  Can  we  expel  the  devils  of 
drunkenness  and  lust !  Can  we  cheer  and  enlighten 
and  redeem  the  slums  f  Qan  the  desert  be  made  "  to 
rejoice  and  blossom  as  the  rose  "  ?  Can  we  ourselvea 
be  the  ministers  of  a  great  salvation  ?  "  According 
to  your  faith  be  it  unto  you."  "  If  ye  have  faith 
as  a  grain  of  mustard  seed,  ye  shall  say  unto  this 
mountain,  Eemove  hence  to  yonder  plain:  and  it 
shall  remove:  and  nothing  shall  be  impossible  unto 
yon.*'  "Every  valley  shall  be  exalted,  and  every 
mountain  and  hill  shall  be  made  low."  What,  then, 
cannot  we  do,  if  we  march  tc^ther,  in  the  power  and 
constraint  of  a  confident  faith  ?  We  can  still  woA 
miractes,  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts. 


XIX 

THE  TESTIMONY  OF  THE  CONSCIENCE 

"  For  our  glorying  ia  this,  the  testimony  of  our  consciTno^ 
that  m  holiness  and  sincerity  of  God,  not  in  fleshly  wisdom, 
but  in  the  grace  of  God,  we  behaved  oarMhes  in  the  world,  and 
man  abundantly  to  you-wmrd."— 2  Cob.  i.  12. 

That  is  the  reply  of  an  apostle  to  charges  directed 
against  the  character  of  his  life  and  ministry.  The 
thunder  has  passed,  and  this  forms  the  last  rumbling 
of  a  storm  of  great  severity.    Alienation  had  arisen 
between  the  apostle  and  the  believers  at  Corinth. 
Lax  practices  had  been  tolerated  in  the  Corinthian 
church,  and  the  apostle  had  denounced  them  with 
fiery  and  scathing  indignation.    And  how  had  they 
answered   his   indictment?    By   questioning  his 
authority,  by  throwing  suspicion  upon  his  creden- 
tials, by  pronouncing  him  an  interioper  who  did  not 
bear  the  original  apostolic  seals,  and  by  insinuating 
charges  against  his  moral  integrity.    It  is  with  this 
last  charge  that  my  text  is  concerned.    They  said  he 
was  light  in  promise  and  careless  in  execution.  His 
word  was  not  his  bond.    His  path  was  strewn  with 
once  fair  promises  which  were  now  blown  about 
like  withered  leaves.  They  charged  him  with  "  light- 
new,**  with  levity,  as  being  a  man  of  ready  wordi 

ait 


«14     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


and  unready  performance.  And  how  does  he  an* 
swr  it?   In  the  only  way  in  which  any  man  can 

find  a  satisfactory  answer.    By  appealing  to  his  own 
conscience,  and  ascertaining  if  the  secret  witness 
confirms  or  destroys  the  indictment  of  his  foes.  And 
that  is  the  only  point  of  interest  for  to-day.  The 
details  of  the  controversy  are  dead.    It  would  serve 
little  purpose  to  attempt  to  revive  them.    But  it  is 
of  perennial  interest,  and  of  vital  importance  to 
know  how  a  great  apostle  surveyed  his  own  be- 
haviour, by  what  standards  he  judged  it,  and  in  what 
conclusions  he  found  his  moral  satisfaction  and 
peace.    How  did  Paul  examine  his  life?  What 
was  the  nature  of  the  tribunal?    In  what  did  he 
find  his  peace?   His  court  of  judgment  was  the 
conscience.    The  case  to  he  submitted  was  his  public 
and  private  behaviour.    The  verdict  was  one  of 
moral  approbation.    The  issue  was  an  enhanced  and 
glorified  rejoicing.    "  For  our  glorying  is  this,  the 
testimony  of  our  conscience,  that  in  holiness  and 
sincerity  of  God,  not  in  fleshly  wisdom,  but  in  the 
grace  of  God,  we  behaved  ourselves  in  the  worla,  and 
more  especially  to  you-wards." 

What  was  the  court  of  judgment?  "C  ir  con- 
science.'^  That  is  the  supreme  court  to  which  every 
man  must  make  final  appeal.  But  how  is  the  court 
constituted?  What  is  the  conscience?  Many  sym- 
bols have  been  used  ir  attempted  d  inition.  It  has 
been  described  as  a  moral  sense,  and  every  physical 
sense  has  been  enlisted  in  the  work  of  interpretation. 


TESTIMONY  OF  THE  CONSaSNCE  ffl5 


Conscience  has  been  said  to  be  a  sense  of  sight  for 
discerning  and  discriminating  moral  colours — the 
virgin  white  of  rectitude,  the  deadly  black  of  ini- 
quity, and  the  dubious  greys  of  ambiguity  and  com- 
promise.   And  conscience  has  been  said  to  be  a  sense 
of  hearing,  for  the  detection  of  moral  tones,  moral 
harmonies  and  discords,  and  for  distinguishing  "  the 
voice  of  the  great  Eternal  "  from  the  shrill  loudness 
of  the  fleeting  day.    And  conscience  has  been  said 
to  be  a  sense  of  taste,  a  palate  for  the  appreciation 
of  moral  flavours,  by  means  of  which  we  may  be 
able  to  apprehend  the  difference  between  the  morallj 
bitter  and  offensive,  and  the  morally  nutritions  and 
sweet.    Conscience  has  also  been  compared  to  tim 
aesthetic  sense.    The  aesthetic  sense  is  an  inherent 
capacity  for  detecting  the  ugly  and  the  beautiful, 
making  appreciative  response  to  the  graceful  curve, 
and  recoiling  from  makeshift  and  confusion.  And 
the  conscience  is  said  to  be  an  aesthetic  sense  on  the 
moral  plane,  by  which  we  feel  the  grace  and  fascina- 
tion of  moral  loveliness,  and  the  repulsion  of  moral 
chaos  and  perversity. 

Well,  all  these  analogies  are  significant,  and  they 
help  us  to  give  expression  to  the  nature  and  ministry 
of  the  conscience.  But  I  think  we  must  track  the 
matter  into  yet  deeper  places,  even  though  we  may 
feel  the  dark  and  awful  silences  of  "  unfathomable 
mines.  "  If  conscience  be  only  a  sense,  we  can  con- 
ceive it  without  awe.  If  conscience  be  only  a  su- 
perior sense  it  is  void  of  the  awful  authority  of  the 


«16     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


judgment  bench.  If  conscience  be  only  an  nsthetio 
porcoption  it  is  shorn  of  the  thunders  and  lightnings 
of  the  throne.  No  man  reasons  rightly  aboul  con- 
science who  makes  it  to  be  pale  moonlight,  devoid 
of  scorching  beam.  No  conception  is  adequate  which 
makes  conscience  a  harmless  sheet-lightning  playing 
picturesquely  about  the  ripening  corn.  Everybody 
knows  that  conscience  is  not  only  luminous  but  con- 
victing, it  not  only  lights  but  it  strikes,  its  burning 
arrows  are  fraught  with  peril  and  death.  We  have 
got  to  trace  that  forked  flame  and  therefore  we  must 
go  deeper  still. 

Let  me  give  John  Wesley's  definition  or  descrip- 
tion of  the  conscience.    John  Wesley  says  that  the 
conscience  is  "a  faculty  or  power  implanted  by 
God"  in  the  soul  by  which  every  man  perceives 
I'  what  is  right  or  wrong  in  his  own  heart  or  life, 
in  his  tempers,  thoughts,  words  or  actions."  Does 
that  take  me  any  deeper?    Apparently  not,  but  in 
reality  it  leads  me  into  the  infinite.    It  names  God 
in  association  with  conscience,  and  in  that  conjunc- 
tion I  get  the  requisite  awe  of  its  judgment,  and  I 
begin  to  leel  the  mysterious  origin  of  the  ligb*ning 
flash  and  flame.   But  may  our  analysis  be  even 
more  precise  than  John  Wesley's?   Let  us  examine 
the  word  itself.    Our  English  word  «  conscience  "  is 
a  very  accurate  transcript  of  the  original  word  used 
by  the  apostle  Paul.    If  we  examine  the  one  we  shall 
be  exploring  the  other.    Take  then  the  word  "  con- 
science."   Break  it  in  two.    Put  aside  the  prelim- 


TESTIMONT  OF  THE  CONSdSNCE  tl7 

inary  syllable.  What  have  you  left?  "Science." 
And  what  is  "  science  "  ?  Knowledge.  Attach  your 
preliminary  syllable,  "con."  What  have  you  now? 
"  Con  "  is  significant  of  association,  fellowship,  in- 
tercourse. «  Con  »  marks  the  oonfluenoe  of  many 
or  the  meeting  of  two.  Where  "  con  "  is,  there  is 
isolation.  "Con-science";  "knowledge  with": 
here  are  two  engaged!  It  is  the  fellowship  of  in- 
telligences, it  is  the  communion  of  man  and  God.  It 
is  the  relation  of  pupil  and  teacher,  of  receiver  and 
giver,  of  echo  and  voice.  The  preliminary  syllable 
in  "conscience"  is  significant  of  a  mysterious  sec- 
ond Presence  whom  we  name  God. 

And  now  I  am  prepared  to  venture  upon  a  sen- 
tence which  I  oflFer  not  as  an  exact  definition  but  as 
a  practical  description  of  the  conscience.  Conscience 
is  a  medium  in  personality  through  which  is  trans- 
mitted to  the  soul  the  moral  judgment  and  impera- 
tives of  God.  In  the  word  "  conscience  "  the  value 
of  the  last  syllable  is  conditioned  by  the  value  of  the 
first.  The  "  science  "  wiU  be  dim,  dull,  unreliable  if 
the  "con,"  the  association,  be  frail  or  broken.  In 
every  healthy  conscience  there  is  correspondence  be- 
tween the  human  and  the  divine,  and  the  quality 
of  the  correspondence  is  determined  by  the  medium 
through  which  it  is  made. 

The  medium  can  be  impaired.  We  can  interfere 
with  the  «  con,"  and  the  «  science  "  will  be  perverted. 
John  Bunyan,  that  marvellous  expert  in  the  heart  of 
man,  declares  that  the  ccmscienoe  can  become  "  stony. 


«18     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

benumbed,"  it  can  be  « bribed,  deluded,  muzzled," 
If  all  that  can  happen  to  the  former  part  of  the 

word,  it  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  what  will  happen 
to  the  latter  part.    The  apostle  says  that  the  medium 
can  be  "seared  as  with  a  hot  iron,"  its  perceptive 
surface  can  be  destroyed  as  we  might  destroy  the 
prepared  surface  of  a  photographer's  plate.    He  de- 
clares that  the  conscience  can  abound  in  what  he 
calls  « offence,"  like  the  flaws  in  a  mirror  which 
render  its  transmission  untrue.    And  above  all  this 
our  Master  Himself  declares  that  the  medium  can 
be  80  distorted  that  the  supposed  knowledge  is  no 
knowledge  at  all.    "  If  thine  eye  be  evil,"  if  the 
con"  be  ravaged,  "thy  whole  body  shall  be  full 
of  darkness."   « And  if  the  light  that  is  in  thee 
darkness,"  if  thou  art  mistaking  a  miasmic  wiU- 
o-the-wisp  for  a  heavenly  star,  "how  great  is  thv 
darkness ! " 

Common  experience  gives  confirmation  to  this 
teaching.    There  are  consciences  which  are  lacking 
in  accuracy,  and  there  are  consciences  which  are  lack- 
ing in  range.    There  are  consciences  which  are  ir- 
regular anywhere,  and  there  are  others  which  are 
only  accurate  in  limited  spheres.    There  are  con- 
sciences which  are  domestically  vigilant  but  politi- 
cally dormant.    Some  consciences  are  responsive  to 
private  debt,  but  dumb  and  numb  to  public  obliga- 
tion.    There  is  a  sense  of  right  which  reigns  in  the 
inch  but  not  in  the  mile.    Its  decree  governs  the 
home,  but  it  does  not  engirdle  the  world.    Its  do- 


TESTIMONY  OP  THE  CONSCIENCE  «19 

minion  does  not  include  the  Congo  and  America,  and 
it  registers  no  imperatives  oonoeming  lands  alar. 
And  so,  if  we  are  going  to  submit  •  matter  to  Hib 

conscience  it  is  of  the  utmost  necessity  that  we  first 

of  all  examine  the  tribunal  itself.  Is  the  couit 
capable,  unbribable,  pure  and  true  ?  If  we  are  going 
to  consult  the  "  science  "  we  must  rigorously  scruti- 
nise the  "con."  When  we  go  into  conscience  it 
must  be  into  the  most  holy  place,  with  only  the 
thinnest  veil  between  ourselves  and  God.  When  we 
hear  the  voice  of  conscience  we  ought  to  be  able  to 
say,  with  apostle  and  prophet,  "  The  Lord  said  unto 
me,"  and  our  1  -ht  must  be  a  beam  from  the  great 
white  tlirone. 

It  was  before  such  an  august  tribunal  that  the 
apostle  submitted  his  p..  blic  and  private  life.    "  Our 
behaviour  in  the  world,  and  more  abundantly  to  you- 
ward."   Let  us  note  the  breadth  of  the  case  sub- 
mitted to  the  court.    He  appeared  before  the  solemn 
sanctities  of  his  conscience,  and  he  submitted  hit 
behaviour  as  a  Christian  "  in  the  world."    Think  of 
it.    The  world  is  the  realm  of  studied  ambiguity 
and  compromise.    The  speech  of  the  world  is  the 
language  of  equivocation.    Worldliness  is  human 
activity  with  God  left  out.    And  for  a  Christian  to 
be  "  in  the  world  "  is  to  be  always  exposed  to  the 
snare  of  dissembling,  to  the  temptation  of  borrowing 
an  accent  or  a  dialect,  and  of  practising -the  doleful 
arts  of  the  trimmer.    The  Christian  must  have  con- 
nection with  the  world,  but  no  communion.   He  must 


««0     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

|»  "  in  "it  but  not  «  of  »  it  He  mwA  mov  among 
Its  ambitions  and  not  lose  his  •.pir.tiona.   He  mn^ 

confront  its  experiences  and  not  Iom  his  prindples. 

He  must  encounter  its  cleverness  and  not  lose  his 
wisdom.  He  must  be  able  to  look  upon  its  coveted 
gariands  and  not  throw  away  his  crown.  Can  it 
be  done?  The  apostle  Paul,  at  any  rate,  took  his 
behaviour  m  the  world,  and  quietly  and  confidently 
submitted  It  to  the  searching  judgment  of  a  con- 
science  which  registered  the  holy  mind  of  God. 

But  there  is  another  part  of  the  case.  My  be- 
havxour  more  abundantly  to  yon-ward."  He  sub- 
mits  this  to  the  tribunal,  and  I  really  think  that  this 
js  ev«i  more  daring  than  the  other.  He  submitted 
his  Me  m  the  church  as  well  as  his  behaviour  in  the 
world.  And  that  includes  a  very  bold  and  inclusive 
scrutiny  For  let  me  mention  a  very  extraorJina^  v 
thmg  which  sometimes  characterises  the  Christian 
life.  There  are  Christian  men  whose  consciences  are 
^ore  active  in  the  world  than  they  are  in  the  Church. 

v^l^V' T^'  obligations  of  their 

membership  m  the  club  than  to  the  obligations  of 
^ir  i^bersh  p  in  the  Church.    They  fegard  the 
^  with  scrupulous  exactitude,  they  regard  the  other 
with  comparative  lightness  and  laxity.    If  thought 
and  sympathy  and  prayer  are  the  appointed  c^nfri 
butions  to  Christian  fellowship,  thrth^pT;  "r 
they  don't  pay,  just  as  they  please,  ^ey 
^frrnge  a  rule  of  the  club;  they  ignore  the  rules  of 
the  Church  without  compunction.    A  masonic  pledge 


TESTIH ONT  OP  THE  CCWSCIENCE  ffl 

has  more  sanctity  than  their  covenant  with  the 
Church  of  Christ  Their  communion  with  a  minor 
Bociety  is  a  reality,  their  communion  with  Christian 
helievers  is  only  a  name.  Now  that  is  a  very  extraor- 
dinary thing,  and  I  think  that  in  some  degree  it  it 
a  common  experience.  If  our  Church  relationshipa 
and  obligations  were  to  be  brought  before  the  search- 
ing glance  of  some  supreme  tribunal  I  think  the 
majority  of  us  would  shrink  into  a  dwarfed  and 
l)athetic  insignificance.  But  it  is  just  here  that  the 
apostle  places  his  most  exultant  emphasis.  "Our 
behaviour'*  more  especially  "to  you-ward."  He 
takes  his  life  of  fellowship  in  the  Church,  and  he 
spreads  it  out  before  the  tribunal  of  a  consoienoe  that 
is  illumined  with  the  glorious  presence  of  God. 

And  what  is  the  verdict  of  the  court?    The  ver- 
dict is  in  two  parts,  negative  and  positive.    And  the 
negative  verdict  is  this:  "  Noi  in  fleshly  wisdom." 
Such  was  the  negative  tesvlmony  of  conscience  con- 
cerning the  life  submitted  to  its  judgment.    "  Not  in 
fleshly  wisdom  I "  said  the  court   This  is  not  a  life 
of  «  show,"  of  glittering  devemess  and  superficial 
sharpness.    Whatever  else  it  is,  Paul's  "  behaviour  " 
18  not  a  fine  polish  upon  a  vicious  grain.    It  is  not 
the  courtesy  of  fine  breeding  detached  from  noble 
morals.    It  is  not  the  shimmer  on  noisome  waters: 
its  wisdom  is  not  a  ghostly  light  playing  about  a 
grave.    So  said  conscience,  and  therefore,  said  Paul, 
"Our  glorying  is  this,  the  testimony  of  our  con- 
MMnoe  ...  not  in  fleshly  wisdom." 


«««     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

And  what  was  the  positive  verdict?    "In  holi- 
ness,"   That  was  the  first  positive  item  in  the  ver- 
dict   "In  holiness!"   And  what  is  that?  Well, 
in  the  first  place,  holiness  is  something  in  the  grain, 
it  is  in  the  stuff,  in  the  fihre,  in  every  thread  and 
every  fibre  of  the  soul.    It  is  all  in  the  piece,  and  aU 
of  a  piece.    It  is  "  wholeness."    And  then,  in  the 
second  place,  holiness  means  the  divine  in  the  grain, 
the  divine  in  the  nature,  in  the  life-stuff,  God  in  the 
entire  piece.    Think  of  that,  and  prayerfully  won- 
der I    Here  is  a  man,  of  such  glorious  consecration, 
that  when  he  takes  the  fabric  of  his  behaviour  and 
spreads  it  before  his  conscience,  and  conscience  has 
examined  it  in  warp  and  woof,  this  is  the  verdict 
given— God  in  every  thread,  wrought  « in  holiness," 
royal  through  and  through! 

And  take  the  remaining  clause  in  the  verdict  of 
the  court— sincerity  of  God."    That  was  its 
second  positive  characteristic.  Ard  what  is  this  word 
"sincerity"?     Its  literal  significance  is  "sun- 
judged."    The  character  of  the  apostle  was  not 
dulled  in  the  radiant  beam.    Its  brightness  matches 
the  light  of  God.    And  therefore  there  is  nothing 
shady  about  it,  and  nothing  underhand,  nothing 
sneaking  about  in  the  shadows.    There  is  no  subtle 
manoeuvring,  no  Jesuitry,  no  duplicity.  Everything 
is  as  frank  as  the  day,  and  as  candid  as  the  noon. 
"  In  sincerity  of  God !  " 

Such  was  the  judgment  of  this  august  tribunal  on 
this  man's  behaviour  in  the  world  and  in  the  Church. 


TESTIMONY  OP  THE  CONSaENCE  ««d 

"  Our  glorying  is  this,  the  testimony  of  our  con- 
science, that  in  holiness  and  sincerity  of  God,  not  in 
fleshly  wisdor ,  but  in  (ho  erace  of  God,  we  behaved 
ourselyes  in  t  iie  world,  sax'l  more  abundantly  to  you- 
ward."   Do   oii  wonder  xt  the  sober  glory,  do  you 
wonder  at  the  sacred  joy?   When  a  vigilant  con- 
science speaks  in  this  wise,  the  awful  tribuni^  is 
transformed  into  our  Father's  house,  and  there  is 
music  and  dancing.    Any  other  kind  of  joy  is  vain 
and  fleeting.    Joy  that  is  not  born  near  conscience 
is  only  the  flare  of  a  street-lamp,  subject  to  accident, 
and  liable  to  be  blown  out  on  the  first  tempestuous 
day.    Joy  that  is  bom  near  conscience  shares  the 
flame  of  the  seraphim  who  bum  and  shine  with  the 
eternal  life  of  Qod. 


XX 

THE  ART  OF  GIVING 

"Let  each  man  do  according  as  he  hath  purpoaed  in  hU 
hear^  not  grudgingly,  or  of  neceuity;  for  God  lomth  a  cheer, 
ful  giver."— 2  Coi.  ix.  7. 

That  is  a  description  of  Christian  beneficence  of 
fine  and  superlative  order.  And  yet  the  statement 
IS  all  maimed  and  bleeding;  it  is  torn  away  from 
80  many  vital  kinships,  in  which  its  life  consists. 
That  IS  the  ever-besotting  peril  of  textual  exposition, 
the  peril  of  regarding  an  amputated  limb  as  the 
entire  body.  And  this  is  particularly  true  of  all 
moral  counsels,  of  all  those  ethical  injunctions  which 
seem  to  be  detached  from  spiritual  sanctions:  we 
handle  them  in  their  apparent  separateness,  and  we 
do  not  see  that  they  are  damaged  and  bleeding  mem- 

''""P*®        *°  the  word 

ot  God  you  cannot  remove  anything  without  hurtinif 
It;  anything  and  everything  can  only  be  safely  r^ 
garded  when  seen  in  its  profound  and  manifold  nerve- 
kmahips  with  the  central  life  of  the  entire  book. 

Let  me  change  my  figure.    Here  is  this  fair  grace 
of  ChnsUan  beneficence  growing  before  us  in  this 
verse.    You  cannot  lift  it  out  of  its  setting  and  hope- 
fully  plant  it  elsewhere.    It  would  not  be  the 
11  you  cut  it  out  and  inserted  it  in  the  oolamiu  of 

m 


THE  ART  OF  GIVING  S85 


our  daily  press.    There  are  some  plants  of  which 
you  can  safely  say,  "  You  can  grow  them  anywhere  I  " 
There  are  others  which  require  a  peculiar  and  spe- 
cially compounded  soil,  and  only  in  this  combina- 
tion can  they  thrive.    And  this  wild  flower  of  the 
kingdom  at  which  I  am  asking  you  to  gaze  is  par- 
ticularly one  of  the  kind  which  demand  a  rich  and 
special  soil,  and  it  has  got  such  a  soil  in  the  ground- 
bed  of  this  great  epistle.    It  is  not  a  bit  of  good 
merely  admiring  the  size  and  shape  and  colour  of 
this  exquisite  plant,  and  utterly  ignoring  the  wealthy 
setting  in  which  it  finds  its  nutriment.    You  might 
as  well  dig  up  some  flower  d  the  woods,  growing 
there  in  a  bed  as  rich  as  a  bride's  cake,  and  plant  it 
in  the  dry  innutritions  grK  .jl  of  a  backyard,  and 
expect  a  continuance  of  the  woodland  glory,  as  twh* 
graces  like  these  from  their  beds  of  fat  sustenance 
and  expect  them  to  flourish  in  chance  and  impover- 
ished surroundings.    No,  we  cannot  grow  fine  graces 
in  lean  soils.    There  is  only  one  thing  more  depress- 
ing than  to  see  an  ill-fed  plant  lifting  its  sickly 
head  out  of  a  pauperised  soil,  and  that  is  the  spec- 
tacle of  a  pinched  and  ansBmic  vii^oe  raising  its 
slender  and  uncertain  life  out  of  poverty-striekm 
resource.    The  roots  of  ail  these  apostolio  graces  run 
right  throughout  the  epistles,  and  every  moral  maxim 
is  imbedded  in  profound  devotion.    It  is  not  my 
present  purpose  to  analyse  the  soil  of  this  particular 
epistle;  it  is  sufficient  to  emphasise  the  richness  of 
its  quality.    Investigate  for  yourselves  the  rich  sec- 


««6     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

tion  exposed  in  the  fifth  chapter,  or  that  splendid 
layer  at  the  end  of  the  aixth  chapter;  or  give  patient 
examination  to  this  rare  representative  portion  of 
the  eighth  chapter,  "  Ye  know  the  grace  of  our  Loid 
Jesus  Christ,  that  though  He  was  rich,  yet  for  your 
sakes  He  became  poor,  that  ye  through  His  poverty 
might  become  rich":  or  take  the  wealthy  culmina- 
tion of  this  very  chapter,  "  Thanks  be  to  God  for 
His  unspeakable  gift":  and  I  think  you  will  feel 
that  these  practical  precepts  emerge  out  of  the  In- 
finite, and  suck  their  nutriment  from  the  very  heart 
of  God. 

The  fact  of  the  matter  is,  the  liberality  of  the 
apostle  Paul  is  always  a  fruit,  and  never  a  work, 
and  It  is  the  product  of  his  communion  with  the 
Eternal.     First  of  all,  he  had  passed  through  a 
mighty  spiritual  experience  which  he  can  only  de- 
scribe as  a  transition  from  darkness  to  light,  from 
slavery  to  freedom,  from  utter  poverty  to  «  unsearch- 
able riches  in  Christ »    That  glorious  emancipation 
had  made  him  the  love-slave  of  His  Deliverer,  and  he 
watched  with  vigilant  love-eyes  for  the  faintest  in- 
dication of  his  Master's  will.    «  The  love  of  Christ 
constraineth  mel "    And  out  of  this  liberty  of  the 
love^ave  there  emerges  a  spontaneous  and  fervent 
gratitude  which  expresses  itself  in  every  form  of 
hheral  and  bountiful  service.     Paul  was  a  great 
giver  because  he  had  so  greatly  received.    He  gave 
thanks  -  without  ceasing,"  and  his  substance  fol- 
lowed  hard  in  the  track  of  his  praise.   Paul's  liber- 


THE  ART  OP  GIVING 


ality  can  be  traced  to  Calvary;  all  his  giving  had 
its  roots  at  the  Cross. 

Having  spent  so  much  time  in  emphasising  tho 
far«tTetching  relationship  of  this  great  virtue,  I 
am  now  ready  to  consider  its  prominent  character- 
istics.   What  is  the  nature  of  a  fine  beneficence! 
The  apostle  begins  his  description  by  proclaiming 
the  negative  aspects  of  the  grace.    First  of  all,  there 
is  an  absence  of  "grudging."    That  is  a  very  ex- 
pressive word,  and  its  real  content  is  given  in  the 
margin,  where  we  find  the  alternative  phrase  "of 
sorrow."    That  is  to  say,  there  are  some  people  whose 
giving  is  "  of  sorrow,"  as  though  they  were  in  pain, 
and  the  transaction  is  done  to  the  accompaniment  of 
sighs  and  groans.    Who  does  not  know  that  profound 
sigh  which  encounters  the  appeal,  as  if  the  very 
pillars  of  the  soul  were  yielding  ?    There  is  no  wed- 
ding air  about  the  ministry:  it  is  possessed  by  the 
tearful  sombreness  of  the  grave !    It  is  not  that  the 
gift  is  withheld:  it  is  that  it  comes  so  reluctantly, 
as  though  some  heart-strings  were  snapping  in  the 
passage.    The  thing  is  done,  but  it  is  more  than  half- 
spoilt  in  the  doing!    And  what  is  the  explanation 
of  this  pain  of  apparent  martyrdom  ?    Just  this :  the 
soul  is  wedded  to  a  thing  instead  of  to  an  ideal, 
and  the  extraction  of  the  thing  is  an  agonising 
divorce.    Now  the  apostle  declares  that  Christian 
beneficence  has  this  plain  characteristic,  it  is  not 
grudging,  it  is  not  "  of  sorrow."   There  is  no  sigh 
of  coUtpse,  there  is  no  frictional  sound  in  the  trana- 


««8     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

ference,  there  is  no  sulky  warder  at  the  gate  who 
opens  the  treasure  house  with  grim  reluctance.  The 
door  18  open,  there  is  sunshine  on  the  step,  and  there 
IS  a  sound  of  welcome  within.    «  Not  grudgingly  I  " 

^  And  then  he  mentions  a  second  negative  character- 
istic;  true  liberality  is  not  "of  necessity."  By 
which  phrase  the  apostle  most  clearly  implies  that 
there  are  people  who  give  just  because  they  are  com- 
pe  led  to  give.    They  give  because  they  must,  and 
not  because  they  desire.  They  would  not  give  if  they 
<K)uld  find  a  way  out  of  it.    Their  liberality  is  a 
forced    product,  and,  like  all  forced  things,  lack- 
ing nature's  matured  sweetness  and  charm.  They 
give  to  the  poor  through  the  poor  rate,  but  most 
certainly  they  would  not  if  they  could  help  it'  If 
the  pwr-rate  collector  had  no  more  compulsory  force 
behind  him  than  a  tract  distributor,  the  springs  of 
their  liberality  would  dry  up  in  a  day!    They  give 
of  necessity."    But  there  are  other  necessitating 
mimstnes  besides  the  police.    Social  conventions  can 
exercise  a  compulsion  which  elicits  apparent  liber- 
ahty.    Some  people  give  because  others  are  givinir 
and  It  will  not  pay  to  be  out !    This  is  not  a  liberd- 
ity  that  pioneers  and  makes  discoveries  for  itself- 
It  18  always  found  in  the  tracks  which  others  have 
made.    It  is  never  in  the  van:  it  is  always  in  the 
rear.    It  never  initiates,  it  only  follows.    It  is  like 
the  slip  of  paper  lying  in  the  railway  track,  snatched 
up  m  the  suction  of  a  passing  train  and  whirled  along 
in  the  path  0/  common  destiny.    Th'a  liberaUty  is 


THE  ART  OP  6IVINO 


829 


caught  in  fashionable  currents,  and  transiently  moves 
of  ''necessity."  Now  the  apostle  teaches  that  no 
such  small  "necessity"  characterises  the  Christiru 
grace.  It  does  not  give  because  it  must,  it  givts  be- 
cause it  wants.  There  is  no  outer  compulsion  upon 
it,  tyrannically  ruling  its  reluctant  heart  Its  con- 
straint is  quite  otherwise,  the  gentle  constraint  of 
devotional  love.    "  Not  of  necessity!  " 

But  the  apostle  leaves  these  merely  negative  and 
somewhat  colourless  attributes  and  proceeds  to  more 
positive  characteristics.    True  liberality  is  simple, 
having  been  born  in  the  "  heart."    It  is  not  eugeu 
dered  in  the  regions  of  calculation  and  expediency, 
but  in  that  deep,  elementary,  vibratory  region,  the 
abode  of  the  sympathetic  chords  of  the  life.  There 
can  be  no  fine  liberality  if  these  are  untouched  and 
unstirred.    All  men  are  equipped  with  the  funda- 
mental, resonant  chords  of  humanity,  and  it  is  on\y 
when  these  are  struck  and  give  out  a  vibratory  re- 
sponse that  we  obtain  the  conditions  of  Christian 
beneficence.    But  let  no  one  imagine  that  the  apostle 
is  proclaiming  the  intended  domination  of  blind  emo- 
tions.   This  basal  sympathy  is  to  express  itself  in 
intelligent  purpose.    "According  as  he  hath  pur- 
posed in  his  heart."    True  liberality  is  inclusive  of 
both;  heart  and  purpose;  emotion  and  understand- 
ing; it  is  not  symbolised  in  the  dark,  moving  waters 
of  a  restless  sea,  but  in  these  same  disturbed  waters 
in  the  light  of  the  full  moon.    Christian  graces  are 
not  Uind  dispositions ;  they  are  lit  up  by  the  minigtry 


«o   THE  transhgubed  church 

rf.  vigilant  understanding.  And  further,  thi,  yir. 
toe  of  hbe«l,ty  „  not  only  simple,  and  intelligent 

thfnr,h^  «'™""   I  do  not 

th.nk  the  phr.«  need.  «.y  elaboration,  certainly  not 
for  clearness,  and  po»ibly  only  for  emph«»,.  But 
™n  there  be  any  n>ore  gracious  «.d  welcome  ex- 
penence  than  this  one  of  having  to  do  the  Ki  J. 
buauiess  „«h  a  man  whose  heart  is  stirred,  Zl 

after  a'    ,t  ^nd  yet, 

after  all,  there  is  a  more  delightful  experience  thu^ 
so  gracious  a  meeting  with  this  so 
av»i        •    .  .     .  ^  gracious  a  man, 

«.d  that  ,s,  to  be  the  man  yourself,  with  your  o™ 

o™  aualtt  f«»  throwing  reflected  beams  of  cheery 
««Klw.llup.neve.7f.„,.fn.bleenterprise.  IZl 

.„„    u  .    .""^P*"'        Let  each  man  do  aooord- 
>«g  as  he  hath  purposed  in  hi,  heart:  not  grudging^ 
orof  neee-siry:  for  God  lovoth  „  .-he^-rf •.l^givl"'' 
Now,  ,1  this  high  quality  of  lib  r.lity  is  to  be 

nfr^  'l"'-  «e  one  or  two  matters 

to  which  TO  must  give  attention,  altogether  apart 


THE  ART  OP  GIVING  S3i 

T  referred  at  the  outset.    The  spirit  of  liberality 
requires  to  be  kept  informeH     To  deny  the  informa- 
tion is  to  refuse  the  requisite  incitement.  Liberality 
cannot  work  in  a  vacuum  any  more  than  sound  can 
travel  in  a  vacuum.  Liberality  works  through  certain 
prepared  conditions,  and  one  of  the  requisite  condi- 
tions is  that  wo  should  provide  it  with  news.  That 
is  true  in  reference  to  all  manner  of  noble  enterprise, 
both  at  home  and  abroad.    There  will  be  no  liber- 
ality where  nothing  is  known:  and  therefore  next  to 
our  knowledge  of  God  we  require  the  facts  of  human 
life.    Liberality  and  ignorance  will  never  consort 
together.    But  even  facts  themselves  may  lie  in  the 
mind  as  infertile  as  marbles  in  a  boy's  pocket.  If 
facts  are  to  become  operative  and  incentive,  oup 
imaginations  must  be  brought  to  play  upon  them. 
The  majority  of  us  only  see  facts  superficially,  we 
do  not  see  them  cubically:  we  see  the  surface,  we  do 
not  see  the  depth.    Now  the  imagination  is  the  God- 
given  implement  for  discovering  the  cubical  con- 
tents of  a  fact,  and  it  is  only  when  we  sit  down  and 
patiently  use  that  implement  that  this  hidden  sig- 
nificance is  disclosed.   It  is  a  profound  conviction 
of  my  life  that  the  majority  of  people  do  not  use 
their  imaginations;  they  use  what  they  caU  their 
imaginations,  but  in  reality  they  are  only  employing 
a  certain  power  of  fancy  which  lightly  pictures  things 
that  are  not,  and  not  this  tremendous  instrument 
for  seeing  things  as  they  are.    I  declare  that  if  we 
conld  see  things  as  they  are  in  the  more  desolate 


«M     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

portion  of  such  a  city  as  Birmingham— I  do  not 
mean  merely  to  go  and  see  a  grey  and  diugj-  court, 
or  even  to  enter  into  a  house  which  abides  in  con- 
fitant  twilight,  for  even  things  seen  may  be  facts  un- 
known,  we  may  see  and  not  perceivt^-but  if  we  could 
imaginatively  enter  into  it.  inner  significances,  sig- 
mficances  that  cannot  be  told  in  speech,  and  if  we 
oou^d  track  some  of  its  far-reaehing  relationships, 
and  open  out  these  stubborn  facts  like  the  opening 
of  a  chestnut  burr,  everybody's  liberality  would  leap 
to  the  enterprise  of  institutional  work.    And  what 
applies  to  this  applies  to  the  entire  field  of  Christian 
service.    We  must  get  to  know  the  insides  of  our 
facts,  fM  we  must  use  every  available  means  to 
?™  ^    knowledge.    One  fact,  imaginatively  real- 
ised, 18  worth  a  ton  of  insignificant  facts,  tumbled 
upon  the  floor  of  the  most  retentive  memory.  There 
would  be  no  grudging,  and  no.giving  «  of  necessity," 
but  an  abm.  lance  of  cheerful  giving,  if  those  who 
are     m  ^arist"  would  endeavour  to  realise  the 
cubical  content  of  our  common  life. 

But,  after  all  that  I  have  said,  I  do  not  think  I 
have  completed  the  enumeration  of  the  conditions 
that  are  requisite  for  a  free  and  cheery  spirit  of 
liberality.  Even  with  all  this,  the  heart  would  still 
be  exposed  to  the  most  insidious  snares.  There  are 
people  who  are  most  unquestionably  in  Christ,  and 
who  even  exercise  such  imagination  as  I  have  tried 
to  describe,  and  yet,  through  lack  of  ordinary  busi- 
ness arrangement,  their  giving  is  marked  by  niggard- 


THE  ART  OF  GIVING  9SS 

liness  and  stint    I  am  the  keeper  of  no  man's  am- 
bience, and  it  is  n...  mine  to  dictate  to  any  man's 
conscience,  but  I  am  dealing  with  a  most  damant 
defect  in  modern  Christian  life  in  this  ver>  A-ant 
of  reasonable  system  in  our  lH  iietlceT,Po.    i  j^^.. 
fectly  sure  clmt  uo  liberality  will  continue  g.  nr  rous 
and  ready  and  cheery  unless  there  is  some  basal  and 
systematic  arrangeiueut.    In  the  old  Jewish  dis- 
pensation the  brotherhood  of  God's  people  were  com- 
manded to  set  aside  one-tenth  of  their  income  for 
unselfish  service.    I  am  persuaded  that  in  the  case 
^f  men  of  affluence,  and  even  of  moderately  wealthy 
incomes,  this  is  by  no  means  an  adequate  proportion. 
I  do  not  think  a  man  with  a  thousand  a  year  ought 
to  be  contented  with  the  consecration  of  a  tenth. 
Becently  I  heard  very  directly  of  one  conspicuously 
wealthy  man  in  our  country,  who  began  in  very 
humble  circumstances,  and  who  in  his  comparative 
poverty  systematically  assigned  a  tenth  for  service, 
but  he  increased  the  proportion  with  the  increase  of 
his  wealth,  and  he  now  assigns  one-third  to  the 
service  of  his  fellows  and  his  Lord.    But  ray  pur- 
pose  just  now  is  to  urge  the  necessity  and  the  delight 
of  some  rensonable  system  in  our  beneficence.  Set 
aside  a  certain  proportion:  determine  tiiat  propor- 
tion in  the  very  presence  of  your  Lord.    And  what 
will  be  the  effect  ?    In  the  first  place,  it  will  save 
you  from  the  peril  of  assuming  you  have  given  more 
money  than  you  really  have.    There  are  some  people 
who  unfortunately  estimate  their  liberaHty  by  the 


884     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

number  of  .ppeiU.  that  are  made  to  them,  and  not 
hy  the.r  responses.    "Another  appeal  I they  say! 
"And  yet  another!"    "  Another  rtill ! "   And  they 
forget  that  this  was  their  only  response,  and  they 
have  come  to  count  the  very  appeal  as  righteousness! 
^ow,  systeiuatic  giving  will  save  us  from  that 
And  It  will  gave  us  further  from  countless  worries 
and  petty  casuistries.    We  shall  not  have  to  be  con- 
tinually arguing  with  ourselves,  and  pleading  with 
ourselves,  and  excusing  ourselves.    No,  there  wiU  be 
the  simple  enquiry:  There  are  our  resources,  and 
here  is  the  appeal:  can  it  be  met?    And  last  of  all 
systematic  giving  makes  liberality  a  delight.  To 
go  to  your  consecrated  money,  to  your  dedicated  tenth, 
or  whatever  the  proportion  may  be,  is  like  having 
a  pnvate  bank  in  which  you  can  draw  for  the  work 
of  the  Lord.    Try  it,  and  you  will  add  your  seal 
to  the  witness  that  this  is  trqel 

"God  loveth"  such  a  giver!  What  an  inheri^ 
ance!  What  a  baptism!  Such  a  man  lives  in  the 
^of  the  Almighty.  It  is  enough.  In  this  divine 
good  life  will  reach  its  consummation  and  its  crown. 
The  man  is  even  now  "  for  ever  with  the  Lord.'* 


XXI 

WANTED,  A  VERDICT  I 

"And  if  it  seem  evil  unto  you  to  serve  the  Lord,  choose  ffou 
thia  day  whom  ye  will  serve:  whether  the  gods  which  your 
fathers  served  that  were  on  this  side  of  the  flood  or  the  gods 
of  the  Ammonites,  in  whose  land  ye  dwell .  hut  as  for  IM  umI 
my  bouse,  we  v  ill  ser-e  the  Lord."— Jos.  xxiv.  16. 

I  am  not  just  now  concerned  ...     the  details  of 
the  particular  incidents  in  which  this  challenge  was 
born.    The  words  are  independent  of  local  environ- 
ment; they  have  a  permanent  value.    In  this  respect 
they  are  like  many  of  the  Psalms ;  they  belong  to  no 
clime  or  time,  and  they  exercise  an  unchanging  min- 
istry through  aU  the  changing  years.    But  the  his- 
torical setting  is  briefly  this:  An  old  crusader  has 
come  to  the  end  of  his  days,  aod  in  the  assemUy  of 
his  people  he  gives  them  his  last  counsel,  the  matured 
warning  and  experience  of  his  years.    He  reviews 
their  wonderful  hi.  ory,  the  long  succession  of  provi- 
dential mercies,  shining  like  an  unbroken  line  of 
light  far  back  to  the  days  of  their  Egyptian  bondage. 
He  rehearses  the  Lord's  dealings  with  His  people, 
and  he  also  rehearses  the  people's  dealings  with  the 
Lord.    He  recalls  their  murmnrings,  their  reluctant 
service,  their  dubious  homage,  their  uncertain  attach- 
ment, their  frequent  revolts.    He  declares  th«t  tli^ 

235 


236     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

have  spent  their  days  in  light  and  flippant  flirtations, 
and  that  they  have  never  settled  down  into  steady 
affection,  and  into  serious  wedlock  with  the  Lord. 

And  so  this  is  the  urgent  counsel  of  the  dying  war^ 
nor  to  his  people:  "Let  these  flirtations  be  .nded! 
In  one  way  or  another  make  up  your  minds !  Don't 
go  any  further  with  this  dubious  limping  gait !  Set- 
tle down  to  something  positive  and  decisive !  Choose 
you  this  day  whom  ye  wiU  serve."    It  is  the  critical 
position  to  which  the  prophet  Elijah  also  brought 
the  people.    "  How  long  halt  ye  between  two  opin- 
ions? '    How  long  will  ye  spend  your  life  in  in- 
conclusive flirtations  ?    Settle  the  matter.    Make  up 
your  minds.    "  If  the  Lord  be  God,  follow  him ;  but 
If  Baal,  then  follow  him.    And  the  people  answered 
him  not  a  word,"  and  the  timid  flirtations  went  on 
And  so  it  is  to-day.    In  spiritual  relationships  men 
flirt,  but  they  do  not  wed;  they  pay  courteous  atten- 
tion, but  they  do  not  choose.    They  give  a  respectful 
hearing,  but  they  do  not  risk  an  issue.    Everything  is 
open,  nothing  concludes.    And  so  I  am  bringing 
this  old-world  counsel  into  our  modern  conditio^,^ 
counsel  which  I  think  is  pertinent  to  much  of  our 
inconsequent  and  inconclusive  life.    Put  an  end  to 
mental  hesitancy  and  moral  timidity !    Stop  the  flir- 
tatu>ns  and  wed !    «  Choose  you  this  day  whom  ye 
will  serve."  ^ 

^fow  let  us  look  a  little  more  in  detiU  at  the 
counsel,  and  see  what  it  implies.  First  of  aU  it 
surely  means  that  our  thinking  should  lead  to 


WANTLii,  A  VERDICT!  887 

conclusions.    There  is  such  a  lot  of  thinking  on 
moral  and  spiritual  themes  which  is  never  tied  to- 
gether in  a  final  knot.    It  is  loose,  unfinished,  and 
ineffective.    There  are  so  many  of  our  mental  webs 
which  never  become  garments.    The  looms  of  the 
brain  are  in  almost  perpetual  motion;  we  spin,  and 
spin,  and  spin,  but  nothing  oomes  of  it.    And  there- 
fore it  is  that  John  Ruskin  has  said  that  "one  of 
the  worst  diseases  to  which  the  human  mind  ia  liaWe 
is  its  disease  of  thinking."    Now  it  is  quite  un- 
necessary to  say  that  Ruskin  is  no  advocate  of  mental 
passivity  or  mental  indolence.    He  spent  his  days  in 
the  endeavour  to  awake  our  people  to  mental  vigi- 
lance, and  to  quicken  their  perceptions  in  body,  mind 
and  souL    It  is  not,  therefore,  a  remonstrance  against 
mental  activity,  but  against  a  mental  activity  which 
makes  no  practical  advance.    It  is  a  remoMtnmee 
against  the  motion  of  the  hobby-horse,  motion  with- 
out progress,  and  not  against  the  motion  of  a  mental 
steed  whose  movements  are  directed  by  bit  and  bridal 
to  definite  and  serviceable  ends.    Diseased  thinking 
«  goal-less  thinking,  thinking  which  never  arrives, 
thinking  which  never  concludes;  and,  according  to 
Ruskin,  It  is  one  of  « the  worst  diseases  »  which  affect 
the  human  mind. 

Kow,  all  thinking  about  these  high,  imperial  mat- 
ters should  culminate  in  moral  crises,  and  toward 
those  crises  they  should  inevitably  tend.  At  certain 
intervals  in  our  life  our  minds  should  be  constituted 
a  court  of  kw,  as  in  the  dosing  hours  of  awne  mo- 


«88     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


mentoug  and  entrancing  case.    The  witnesses  have 
been  heard.    The  evidence  is  finished.    Counsel  has 
spoken.    The  judge  has  sifted  the  entanglements, 
and  presented  the  issue  in  a  clear  and  continuous 
story.    And  now  for  the  verdict,  and  for  the  judg- 
ment, and  for  execution,  and  the  case  is  ended.  And 
that,  I  say,  is  what  we  want  in  the  realm  of  the  mind. 
Now  and  again  the  bustling  quests  of  the  mind  must 
be  hushed  and  concentrated  on  a  solemn  court  of 
judgment.    The  evidence  must  be  regarded  as  dosed. 
Mental  exploration  must  change  to  moral  verdict,  and 
the  judgment  must  be  executed.    Yes,  that  is  what 
we  want,  and  that  is  what  we  lack  in  much  of  our 
mental  movements— we  lack  moral  verdicts.  Our 
thinking  trails  on,  and  on,  and  on,  for  the  mere 
delight  of  the  inteUectual  process,  and  the  verdict 
is  indefinitely  delayed.    And  so  life  is  spent  in  a 
sort  of  royal  commission  which  never  reports,  and 
in  the  flippant  delay  the  moral  slumber  of  the  tool 
is  deepened  and  intensified. 

Now  there  are  some  matters  on  which  we  are  no 
longer  entitled  to  keep  an  open  mind.  We  ought  to 
wipe  out  the  note  of  interrogation  and  insert  a  period. 
The  verdict  ought  to  be  given,  and  the  case  closed. 
The  beauty  of  holiness,  the  obligation  of  truthfulness, 
the  duty  of  charity,  the  dignity  of  chivalry,  the 
mighty  ministry  of  sacrifice— these  are  ^ical  of 
matters  which  ought  no  longer  to  lie  upon  the  table 
as  open  questions,  but  upon  which  we  ought  to  iasue 
final  judgment,  and  close  the  doors  of  our  minda. 


WANTED,  A  VERDICT!  m 

But  above  aud  beyond  aU  these  questions  of  virtue 
there  is  the  supreme  issue  of  the  moral  and  spiritual 
supremacy  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ. 
We  may  keep  an  open  mind  on  the  nature  of  the 
miracles,  on  the  true  interpretation  of  the  atonement, 
on  the  function  and  limitations  of  the  ministry  of 
prayer,  and  on  a  thousand  and  one  theological  ques- 
tions which  for  centuries  have  provided  diversions 
for  the  schools;  but  on  the  question  of  the  moral 
sovereignty  and  spiritual  pre-eminence  of  the  Christ; 
on  the  question  as  to  who  has  the  right  ♦o  the  homage' 
and  service  of  our  wills,  the  case  ought  to  be  closed, 
and  our  minds  ought  to  register  a  definite  and  final' 
decision. 

I  venture  to  say  there  is  not  a  man  or  woman  who 
reads  these  words  who  requires  further  evidence 
about  the  rightful  leadership  of  Jesus  Christ;  and 
yet  the  case  drifts  on  and  on,  and  no  weighty  and 
revolutionising  verdict  is  pronounced.    And  we  can- 
not afford  to  surrender  our  lives  to  purposes  of  mere 
enquiry.    We  are  in  this  world,  not  merely  as  en- 
quirers, but  as  crusaders;  not  only  to  think,  but  to  do. 
Take  my  own  life.    At  the  most,  there  is  probably 
only  a  stretch  of  thirty  years  awaiting  me.  What 
shaU  I  do  with  the  years?   ShaU  I  go  on  and  on, 
making  timid  and  doubtful  enquiries  I   Shall  I  go 
on,  lightly  toying  with  evidence  that  I  have  been 
touching  for  years;  or  shall  I  pull  myself  together, 
and  risk  a  strong  conclusion?    In  my  life,  at  any 
rate,  it  were  high  time  the  court  were  constituted  for 


240     THE  TBANSFIGURED  CHURCH 


judgment,  high  tune  that  I  pronounce  verdict  i 
the  Lord,  solemnly,  definitely,  and  decisively; 
on  this  most  supreme  of  all  supremacies  finally  < 
the  case. 

But  would  not  that  be  narrowness  of  mind  ? 
why  should  it  be  regarded  as  narrowness  of  n 
to  have  a  closed  mind  about  settled  issues?  Tl 
is  a  mental  disposition  rampant  to-day  which 
scribes  itself  as  "  breadth  of  mind,"  and  whicl 
a  very  spurious  thing.    We  seem  to  be  approad 
a  time  when  the  only  people  who  will  be  entitle* 
be  called  broad  will  be  people  who  have  settled  < 
victions  about  nothing!    The  only  people  who  ' 
be  regarded  as  mentally  free  will  be  mental  vagra 
who  have  no  fixed  and  settled  abodes  1    I  say 
breadth  is  spurious,  and  the  freedom  is  coimterf 
Believe  me,  there  is  a  very  real  and  profound  ( 
tinction  between  mental  licentiousness  and  mei 
liberty.   Mental  licentiousness  is  laxative;  mei 
liberty  is  tonic.    All  true  liberty  has  a  certain  fix: 
and  from  that  fixity  it  draws  its  sap  and  virt 
Men  who  have  no  mental  holdfasts  may  boast  ab 
their  freedom,  but  their  freedom  is  unreal  and 
neither  fruitful  nor  efficient.    It  is  the  truth  wh 
makes  m  free.    It  is  the  man  with  a  settled  ho 
who  can  walk  abroad  with  serene  and  recept 
freedom.   And  therefore  I  come  back  to  the  < 
counsel.    Think  up  to  an  issue.    Think  up  to  a  o 
elusion.    Think  up  to  moral  settledness  and  fixi 
"What  think  ye  of  Christ?"   Begister  a  vexdi 


RCH 

rerdict  upon 
isively;  and 
finally  close 

mind  ?  But 
!ss  of  mind 
les  ?  There 

which  de- 
id  which  is 
ipproaching 
I  entitled  to 
settled  con- 
le  who  will 
al  vagrants, 

I  say  the 
sounterfeit. 
jfound  dis- 
md  mental 
ve;  mental 
•tain  fixity, 
md  virtm 
)oast  about 
eal  and  is 
ruth  which 
ttled  home 

receptive 
bo  the  old 
p  to  a  oon- 
ind  fixity, 
a  verdicty 


WANTED,  A  VERDICT!  241 

choose  your  leader,  «  Choose  you  this  day  whxxm  ye 
will  serve." 

let  me  take  you  a  step  further.    We  are  coun- 
selled not  only  to  think  to  an  issue,  but  to  register 
our  mental  verdicts  in  definite  moral  and  spiritual 
decisions.    If  in  your  mind  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is 
judged  to  be  the  supreme  Leader  and  Saviour  of 
men,  then  pronounce  the  judgment  from  the  throne 
of  your  life,  and  soleinnly  resolve  to  give  the  Christ 
th"  practical  homage  and  fealty  of  your  will.    For  it 
is  not  only  "  thinking  "  that  is  prone  to  meander  in 
tedious  and  wasteful  futility,  but  "  willing  "  also  is 
apt  to  loiter  in  wasteful  indecision.    A  man  may 
determine  upon  a  verdict,  and  may  solemnly  pro- 
nounce the  verdict,  and  yet  he  may  postpone  the 
execution  of  it.    A  man  may  honestly  say  "  Lord ! 
Lord! "  and  do  not  the  thing  which  the  Lord  says. 
And  that  is  why  the  Bible  calls  upon  men  to  put 
their  solemn  verdicts  into  immediate  execution. 
"  Choose  you  this  day  whom  ye  will  serve."    '*  To- 
<lay»  if  ye  will  hear  His  voice,  harden  not  your 
hearts! "   « Behold,  now  is  the  accepted  time,  now 
IS  the  day  of  salvation ! "   And  yet  we  postpone,  we 
dilly-dally,  we  devise  excuses,  and,  as  in  the  pro- 
crastination of  Hamlet,  "  the  native  hue  of  resolution 
is  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought."  The 
court  has  given  judgment,  but  execution  is  stayed. 
That  is  surely  the  condition  of  multitudes  in  this 
land.    They  have  closed  the  case.    They  have  given 
their  verdict   And  yet  their  life  is  still  frittered 


«4«     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CRmVM 


away  in  puerilities,  or  in  uncertain  or  undignified 
enterprise.    And  all  for  want  of  deliberate  choice, 
and  swift  and  summary  action  I    They  let  "  I  dare 
not "  wait  upon  "  I  would,"  and  life  speeds  on  to  the 
night!    The  more  I  live,  the  more  I  study  life,  the 
more  I  see  its  aimless,  goal-less  driftings,  the  more  I 
counsel  a  definite  deliberateness  in  the  determination 
of  a  Christian  life.    Yes,  I  would  even  go  so  far  as 
to  say  that  I  would  have  men  break  up  their  inde- 
cision by  a  deliberate  action  which  is  striking  and 
dramatic.    I  do  not  mean  a  stagey  spectacle,  with 
an  applauding  audience  looking  on,  but  a  dramatic 
moment  in  secret,  when  a  man  smashes  up  his  moral 
hesitancies  and  indecision,  and,  laying  a  firm  hand 
upon  the  neglected  helm  of  his  boat,  shall  say,  "  Now! 
henceforth  for  me  to  live  is  Christ  I  "    "  Choose  you 
this  day  whom  ye  will  serve  .  .  .  As  for  m©  and 
my  house,  we  will  serve  the  Lord." 

But  let  me  give  a  note  of  warning.    Let  every  man 
be  careful  to  distinguish  between  resolutions  and 
resolution.    We  may  make  our  resolutions,  but  want 
of  resolution  will  make  them  ineflFective.    There  is 
an  old  saying  that  the  way  to  hell  is  pared  with 
good  resolutions.    I  suppose  it  is  true,  but  they  are 
good  resolutions  in  which  there  has  been  no  resolu- 
tion.   We  may  make  our  resolutions,  but  we  need 
a  mystic  force  of  resolution  if  they  are  to  be  efficient. 
And  men  are  so  prone  to  amfound  the  one  with 
the  other,  and  their  mor^  enterprises  ooUapae  in 
pathetic  disaster.  For  let  us  ever  remembe^,  that 


WANTED,  A  VERDICT! 


US 


even  when  the  verdict  has  been  given,  and  our  reso- 
lutions have  been  made,  the  bias  of  our  beings  may 
be  against  our  moral  choice.    Yes,  that  is  the  contro- 
versy which  characterises  thousands  of  lives  when 
they  first  pull  themselves  together  for  moral  decision. 
The  combatants  are  resolutions  versus  inclinations, 
and  in  such  warfare  mere  resolutions  are  apt  to  prove 
very  frail.    And  so  again  I  say,  when  we  have  made ' 
our  resolutions  we  need  spiritual  resolution  to  make 
them  powerful.    "  It  is  not  by  might,  not  by  power, 
but  by  my  spirit,  saith  the  Lord."    You  may  put 
your  firm  hand  upon  the  rudder  of  your  sailing  boat; 
but  you  are  not  going  far  without  the  wind. 
"  Breathe  on  me,  breath  of  God !  "    "  Ye  shall  re- 
ceive power  when  the  Holy  Ghost  is  come  upon  you." 
"  And  He  breathed  upon  them,"  and  the  flapping 
sails  tightened  to  receive  it,  and  the  boat  moved  out  of 
herbour  in  its  God-appointed  way!    "And  He 
breathed  upon  them,"  and  the  frail  resolution  pulsed 
and  tingled  with  resolution,  and  the  timid  recruit 
became  a  valorous  knight,  fit  to  take  his  place  on  the 
sternest  part  of  the  field ! 

"Breathe  on  me,  Breath  of  God: 
FUI  me  wHh  life  anew, 
That  I  may  love  what  Thou  dost  lor*. 
And  do  what  Thou  would'at  do. 

Breathe  on  me,  Breath  of  God. 
Till  I  am  wholly  Thine, 
Until  this  eftrthly  part  of  me 
CHows  witii  Thjr  fln  diviiM." 


xxn 


THE  OLD  ROAD  AGAIN 
"  Simon  Peter  saitb  unto  them,  I  go  a  fiaUng."— JOHir  xxt  S. 

Do  we  feel  that  this  is  a  mean  and  trifling  descent 
from  the  great  and  solemn  themes  which  are  de- 
scribed in  the  previous  chapter  ?    The  disciples  have 
been  living  in  repeated  thrills  of  wonder.    And  now, 
is  it  possible  that  they  can  quietly  settle  down  again 
to  the  old  tasks,  and  from  the  awful  glory  of  the 
resurrection  turn  to  the  commonplace  of  fishing? 
Has  the  wonder  faded  ?   Has  the  warm  glow  become 
grey  and  cold  ?   Have  the  oolonrs  of  the  marvelloiu 
sunrise  changed  into  the  quiet  attire  of  the  sober 
day  ?    Has  the  surprise  spent  itself  ?    "  I  go  a  fish- 
ing!"   Is  the  glory  over?    Oh,  no!    The  wonder 
of  the  resurrection,  and  the  power  of  it,  are  now  to 
mingle  with  the  old  conditions  and  transfigure  them. 
When  you  begin  to  descend  the  Rigi,  after  witnessing 
the  unutterable  glory  of  some  stupendous  sunrise,  you 
do  not  leave  it  aU  behind,  you  cany  it  with  you,  you 
bring  it  into  the  hurrying,  sweltering  movements  of 
your  own  city,  and  it  mixes  itself  with  the  grey  and 
sombre  circumstances  of  our  common  day. 

"These  beauteous  forma, 
nufoa^  a  Umg  slwenoe,  htn  not  been  to  bm 

m 


THE  OLD  ROAD  AGAIN  «46 

As  is  a  landscape  to  a  blind  man's  eye: 
But  oft,  in  lonely  rooms,  and  'mid  tbe  din 
Of  towns  and  dties,  I  have  owed  to  them. 
In  hours  of  weariness,  sensations  sweet* 
Felt  in  the  blood,  and  felt  along  the  heurti 
And  passing  even  into  my  purer  mind. 
With  tranquil  leetoraticMi.'' 

Simon  Peter  had  often  gone  a  fishing,  but  nevw  had 
he  gone  as  he  went  in  the  twili^t  of  that  most 

wonderful  evening.  He  moved  about  the  shore  with 
an  amazingly  enlarged  consciousness;  the  imprison- 
ing walls  of  his  narrow  lot  had  fallen  down  on  every 
side,  and  on  every  side  the  light  was  pouring  in  from 
the  infinite.  He  handled  the  ropes  in  a  new  style, 
and  with  a  new  dignity  bom  of  the  bigger  capacity  of 
his  own  soul.  Yes,  he  turned  to  the  famiHar  task, 
but  with  a  quite  unfamiliar  spirit  He  went  a  fish- 
ing,  but  the  power  of  the  resurrection  went  with  him. 
He  spread  the  splendid  colours  of  his  Eastertide  over 
the  still  grey  surface  of  his  common  life. 

Now,  here  is  the  true  test  of  the  reality  of  my 
spiritual  experience :  how  does  it  fit  me  for  ordinary 
affairs  ?  A  spiritual  festival  should  do  for  the  soul 
what  a  day  on  the  hill  does  for  the  body,  equip  it 
for  the  better  doing  of  the  ordinary  duties  in  the  vale. 
I  will  test  the  essential  value  of  anv  man's  Easter  by 
his  behaviour  in  the  following  week.  I  will  test  the 
value  of  a  Christian  convention  by  the  way  in  which 
its  supporters  pick  up  the  lowly  duties  that  wait  on 
the  undeeoratcd  road.  When  the  special  revival  is 
over,  and  the  exciting  meetings  are  done,  and  the 


«46     THE  TRANSMQURED  CHURCH 

aensational  day  wears  toward  evening,  how  do  they 
return  to  the  ordinary  way,  to  the  customary  labours, 
to  quiet  domestic  duties,  to  u0y  gocid  necessities, 
o  he  unapplauded  round  of  church  services,  to  the 
little  prayer  meeting  with  the  two  and  three-how 
do  thev  return  to  these  things  ?    Do  they  come  back 
with  that  glorified  consciousness  which  make,  them 
faithful  m  that  which  is  least,"  or  do  they  come 
back  feeling  that  all  these  things  are  flat  and  taste- 
less  stale  and  profitless,  and  that  they  must  seek  a 
diet  more  highly  spiced  and  exceptional  ?   I  ^mem- 
ber  once  standing  on  Great  Orme's  Head,  on  a  day 
of  superlative  beauty,  a  day  when  land  and  ocean 
and  sky  seemed  to  vie  with  one  another  in  the 
amazing  glory  of  their  robes;  and  one  who  was  near 
me  tu^ed  and  sighingly  said,    Fancy  auctioneering 
after  this  I  »    Yes,  and  fancy  fishing  after  the  resur 
section  1    If,  after  the  Eastbr  morn,  the  old  beach 
seems  a  cold  and  colourless  strip,  and  our  old  fisher- 
men  mates  are  dull  and  flavourless,  and  the  old  fish- 
^ng  boat  stinks  in  our  nostrils,  and  we  turn  to  the 
work  with  loitering  feet,  we  may  be  perfectly  sure 

ril"?  ^'""^  ''^^  g^or^  of  the 

nsen  Lord,  for  it  is  the  inherent  ministry  of  the 

spmtually  extraordinary  to  make  the  ordinary  at- 
tractive    "  Even  the  bells  upon  the  horses  shaU  be 
holy  unto  the  Lord."    "After  ti^ese  thing.  . 
Simon  Peter  saith  unto  them,  I  go  a  fishinfr*'     *  * 

of  uT-  •!    , '  ^  """""^^         the  reality 

of  a  spiritual  experience,  it  give,  us  a  keener  appetite 


THE  OLD  ROAD  AGAIN 


t47 


for  oommon  duty.    It  is  beautiful  to  watch  the 
Psalmists,  and  to  listen  to  them  when  they  return 
from  communing  with  the  Lord.   For  thi^  is  the 
song  upon  their  lips,  «  O,  how  I  love  Thy  lawl "  It 
is  an  extraordinary  combination,  aflFection  gathering 
round  about  a  statuto,  a  glowing  passion  gathering 
round  about  a  restraint.    The  Psalmist  had  not  al- 
ways delighted  in  the  law  of  his  Lord.    There  was 
a  day  when  he  accepted  it  like  bitter  medicine,  and 
he  took  it  with  a  very  wry  face,  but  now  he  has  been 
spiritually  exalted,  his  moral  palate  has  been  re- 
newed, and  the  law  of  the  Lord  is  in  his  month  "  as 
honey  for  sweetness."    When  a  man  smacks  his  lips 
over  duty,  and  not  over  an  evasion  of  duty,  you  may 
securely  reason  as  to  the  depth  and  reality  of  his 
communion  with  God.    "  Thy  statutes  have  become 
my  songs."    This  is  the  test— how  do  our  resurrec- 
tion experiences  certify  them^lves  in  common  life  ? 
Does  the  power  of  the  resnrrection  pervade  our  ordi- 
nary toil !   Does  drudgery  rise  from  the  dead,  and 
appear  a  creature  with  wings  ?   Is  there  a  new  at- 
mosphere in  our  business,  the  liimble,  living  air  of 
the  Easter  morn  ?    Do  men  find  it  easier  to  breathe, 
a  joy  to  breathe,  when  they  come  into  our  communion, 
even  though  c     intercourse  be  concerned  with  com- 
parative trifles?    Is  there  a  fine  tonic  in  the  air, 
«nd  do  men  go  away  from  our  presence  say'-'g,  "  It 
was  like  a  breath  from  the  hiUs  "  f   That  is  a  proof 
of  the  resurrection.    And  do  all  our  cold  conven- 
tionalities become  alive,  and  warm,  and  brilliant,  like 


«48     THE  TRANSFIGUiyKD  CHUBCH 

dull  carlK.a«  when  tbe  my^  deetricd  energy  po.- 
wwes  and  pervades  them  ?    b  there  a  faer  i. 

he  courtesies  on  the  k-ach  because  of  what  hmpmm^ 

on  the  firsf  day  of  the  week  "  upon  the  hill  ?  i^e 
«e  Ute  tests,  and  hy  tk...  w,  ,nay  know  h.  •  i„tn.  -to 

Io«l.    «  The  Lord  is  r    n  indeed !  "    Is  He  ^ 
We  have  seen  the  Lord!"    Have  you?      He  hath 
appeareduntoSimonI"   Ha. He / Then  there wm 

glory  of  the  Eastort  .le  i    the  kindling  of  lowiy 

&mon  Peter  sauh  I..     rhon    f  fi«,i^p> 
»rt  now,  thi8  healthy  action       Si,,.  >a  Peter  is 
»«t  cmly  a  test  and  a  proof  of  a  pa«t  spin,  uai  expo. 
«nee  It  „  «  prepamtfve  to  a  r*n.nv.  of  it.  Peter 
might  have  laid  aside  his  fi«her'«  coat,  and 

f  he  possessed  any,  he  uugte         arrayed  himaeli 
m  his  hohday  attire,  an.!  p,.„e  moving  ahout  in  « 
sort  of  spiritual  loiterin,.  iookin,  wistfu^ fll 
reappearance  of  his  ris  ,  r.ord.    He  migh, 
iwen  tempted  to  reason  in  tli.     ,  v  "  It  will  I. 
to  go  off  on  the  boat,  for  while  I'm  away  .  .  -ho  . 
the  Master  may  come  I   ^      i-'  ^tter  '  watch  .  . 
"The  T    .  -"^       «^ihood  fo.  a  day  or  two! 
The  Lord  is  mmdfnl  of  His  ovm  I    He  remembers 

abTu;;    '  ^i-wTt 

about  h™,  got  xnto  hi.  workaday  dress,  and  thus  h 
msoned  wuh  hzmsdf:  Mr  ea.  .-  ot  b.   .rong.  .  « 
•fter  all  the  bewildering  exp^^riex.,     of  the  iL  few 


THE  OLD  ROAD  AGAIN 


249 


■lays,  an  l  witl  all  the  remorse  which  troubles  my 
days  and  ni  it  .annot  be  wrong  to  set  aboat 
earning  one  uvi/jg  in  an  honegt  wayl  If  the  Mas- 
ter oomes  He  vill  know  I'm  about  my  nee.lful  work, 
and  mayhap  Te  cdl  it  His  Father's  business! 
I  go  a  fishing!"  Ay,  ^  that  road  of  common 
d  w!  ^  t  the  v^'  ai^iated  for  another  meeting 
wifh  his  L  J,  ft,  tiw  >ming  light  there  4me  a 
voit    acrosh  th-^       en      Children,  have  yt  any 

"A  awh  aJeauslovedsaith 

uato  '  *eter       is  i,,,.  Lot  ,  .  " 

Ad   aoL  f  ^  repeated  to  men  who  wr re  faith- 

fnlij  Tead'     cbe  path  of  duty,  and  who  were  going 
^-«t    hf     >rdinary  work.    The  Lord  appeared 
i^ain  ai.    their  Eaater  faith  was  oonfirmed.  IJow 
f^hink  th  it  just  here  is  where  so  many  of    ^  faiL 
^ur    m        expe  riences  fade  away,  like 
^•^^^  a     ,"  because  we  are  negligent  c .  .e 

app-  'a(.  of  work  and  duty.    There  is  a  b.  f 

gpp         cc  waiting,  a  colourless  patch  of  uninterest- 
ing rot        a  dull  stretch  of  dingy  street,  and  at  the 
end  o-  it  the  risen  Lord  I   But  people  prefer  to  hug 
^ir  past  experiences,  to  pore  over  them,  to  meditate 
h^  the  empty  tomb,  and  thcrvhy  seek  some  further 
''^     ^    a  which  will  allay  the  last  uncertainty  and 
^    he  lingering  doubt.    And  they  wait,  and  wait, 
and  wait— and  the  colours  of  the  first  revelation  be- 
gin to  grow  faint,  and  doubts  annoy,  and  fears  in 
crease,  and  they  begin  to  wonder  if  they  have  ever 
■een  the  Lord  at  an.   And  all  the  time  their  boat  ia 


wo     THE  TRANSFIGURED  CHURCH 

stranded  idly  on  the  beach— and,  did  they  only  know 
It,  m  the  call  of  a  neglected  task  they  may  hear  the 
voice  of  the  risen  Lord.    I  am  growingly  amazed  at 
«u>  number  of  people  who  are  depressed  and  troubled 
with  spiritual  doubts  and  fears,  and  who,  when  one 
conies  to  enquire,  are  neglecting  some  immediate 
means  of  obtaining  light  and  witness  from  the  living 
God.    There  are  people  in  every  congregation  who 
are  groping  in  a  deepening  twilight,  and  who  ar« 
painfully  moaning, 

"  Where  is  the  blessedness  I  knew 
When  first  I  saw  the  Lord? " 

and  if  they  would  only  gird  themselves  with  their 
hsher  8  coat,  and  jump  into  the  first  duty  that  pre- 
sents  Itself,  and  row  strong,  and  work  hard,  they 
would  see  their  Lord  again,  and  in  the  morning  they 
would  hear  His  gracious  voice  across  the  waters,  and 
their  heart  would  leap  for  joy.    We  are  never  going 
to  retain  the  Easter  Ught  if  we  are  surrounded  by 
neglected  tasks  and  duties.   Here,  at  any  rate,  honest 
fishing  will  sustain  the  wonder  of  the  empty  tomb. 
Lazy  disciples  wiU  inevitably  lose  their  Lord.   He  is 
waiting  for  thee  at  the  end  of  "  the  long  unlovely 
street,"  or  on  the  quiet  beach  where  the  morning 
boat  comes  in,  or  in  the  hospital  ward,  or  in  the 
humble  cottage  where  pain  and  death  have  been— 
•^ewh««  I  teU  thee,  at  the  further  side  of  some 
neglected  duty,  the  Master  tarries  for  thee:  then  be 
vp  ana  doing"  uid  "the  joy  of  the  Lord  shall  be 


THE  OLD  KOAD  AGAIN  Ml 

thy  strength."   « I  have  waited  for  Thee  in  the  way 

ef  Thy  commandments." 

And  may  I  not  also  say  that  this  glorious  discharge 
of  immediate  duty  is  surely  the  best  way  of  pro- 
claiming the  realities  of  Easter  and  the  glory  of  the 
risen  Lord.    The  world  will  believe  in  the  secret 
of  our  Easter  when  our  humblest  duties  and  rela- 
tionships bum  and  shine  with  the  light  divine. 
There  is  nothing  which  so  startles  the  world  like  a 
dull  commonplace  made  alive  and  brilliant.  Trans- 
formed rubbish  heaps  are  centres  of  perennial  fasci- 
nation.   To  see  a  bit  of  work,  once  carelessly  and 
indifferently  done,  now  so  done  that  it  makes  folk 
think  of  the  kind  of  work  which  must  have  been 
turned  out  from  the  carpenter's  shop  at  I^azarethl 
To  see  a  once  rough  formality  converted  into  a  fin- 
ished  courtesy  by  the  grace  and  geniaUty  of  Jesus! 
To  see  the  light  of  the  risen  life  lifting  up  our 
trifles,  and  distinguishing  them  like  street  lamps 
along  a  dark,  dingy  road— all  this,  I  say,  would 
startle  the  old  world  into  reverent  and  fruitful 
wonder. 

"Simon  Peter  saith  unto  them,  I  go  a  fishing. 
They  say  unto  him,  We  also  go  with  thee."  The 
example  proved  contagious.  Sanctified  common 
sense  is  very  mi^ty.  They  were  a  little  company 
of  bewildered  men,  whose  minds  had  been  stretched 
to  the  reception  of  amazing  experiences,  and  th^ 
were  just  palpitating  in  uncertainty  and  confusion. 
And  thai  one  sane  man  strikes  across  the  conf  uaion 


i 


««     THE  TRANSFIGUHED  CHUBCH 

d.8t»cted  nund.  collected  thenuelvee  ,m>und  this 
—  end.    "WeJ«,g„,iu,aee,„  Rw*. 

•ieolopcd  reconstruetion  of  our  time  let  «.  W 
.ur  WJ^  dead  set  to  the  .oing  of  the  iZdte 

"d  «.  the  glorification  of  common  life  we  shall 
»«*rl«e  t«uA  with  the  risen  Lord.  "Well  done, 
th.«  good  «d  f«thf«l  «rvM,t,  thou  ha,t  been  faith- 
ftd  over  a  few  thing.,  I  win  ^ 

thanp,  enter  tho<  i,  i.  ,„  e™r-bre.king  re^! 


futiTKD  iH  TUB  o«t«d  mn>  or 


WORKS  OF 

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S.  D.  GORDON 

Quiet  Talks  About  the  Tempter 

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word.,  after  we  hSw'rSrf'S  fcok^^^TV''^?^  *" 

S1M1LIB8  AND  IlXUSTRATIONs''^" 

CompiUd  hi,  FRANCIS  E.  rrAPr  n  r. 

^^"^SSt^'^^}^'"'^  Alexander 

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